Harry Potter and The Death Wish
by Hasegawa
Summary: He always wishes for death. He wants it so much it hurts. But nobody wants him die. even his enemies. Why?
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Mostly not mine.

Pairing: Well, I love TR/HP, but lets see...

Beta reader: Blind_alchemist

Summary: He always wishes for death. He wants it so much it hurts. But nobody wants him die. even his enemies. Why?

Rating: M.

Enjoy!

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><p>Harry Potter was not your usual 11 year old boy. Now, it was not because of his ability to suddenly transport onto the roof, or change his teacher's hair to a blue color. It was simply because his will,. He wished to die.<p>

He had embraced these feelings for so long. Ever since he was old enough to conjure a memory, he had been shown the unfair side of the harshness of reality: namely, his uncaring family, his dead parents, his unconcerned teachers, his contemptuous cousin. Everybody was there to hurt him, to make him realize that his being born was a mistake.

His eyes saw through the lenses (blurred lenses, because they were not set in the appropriate power) that there appeared to be a wall between him and 'normal' people. 'Normal' people like Dudley, Petunia and Vernon had real lives, as well as happiness. They could watch television, they could eat whatever they liked, they could smile and laugh and be a family, they could order the 'freak' (like him) around, they had their own jobs—as a manager at Grunnings, or as a spoiled son. They could enjoy their holidays; they deserved presents and love and kisses and hugs. On the other hand, 'freaks' like him deserved nothing. He needed to work to eat, needed to beg for clothes and cry for a bed. His small cupboard under the stairs was the only one place where he felt like he was at home—or maybe, the only place he felt that was suitable to house a 'freak' like him.

He knew that all people eventually died. Wasn't that the case with his drunken parents? They died, passing away to the next gate and leaving him alone. Of course, who would want a 'freak' anyway? Harry knew that it was true; otherwise how could two ordinary adults suddenly decide to go drunk driving? They must have hated the fact that Harry—the 'freak'—was borne of them; their only option left was to save face by killing themselves.

Death had always been a fascinating subject for him. Hell, ever since he could read, Harry preferred to engulf himself in the prospects of death. From the bedtime stories Petunia told Dudley—which Harry, much to his desperation and shame, would eavesdrop in on—at the end of each story, all the bad guys died, and the prince and princess would live happily ever after. Putting himself in the bad guys' role, Harry came to the conclusion that 'normal' people like the prince and princess of the stories, and the "Dursleys'" of the world, deserved to live happily ever after, while 'freaks' like the bad guys, and him, deserved to die. That morbid conclusion made Harry wonder what death felt like.

Alas, even though he wondered about death all the time, his limited knowledge did not allow him to think one step ahead—he was still too innocent to contemplate suicide. Furthermore, his own magic abilities (which he wasn't aware of yet) protected his body from harm, and whenever hurt, he healed himself at such a super fast rate that Harry himself didn't even realize how abnormal his healing ability was. So instead, his mind subconsciously sought ways to end his life—at times, by crossing the road a bit late, or by standing up for himself to the biggest bully in school (headed by yours truly, Duddley Dursley), or by carelessly playing with electric appliances while near a source of water. Yet somehow, he still remained alive until the day he received the weird letter saying he had been accepted to Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

That week had been a truly bad one; aside from the usual lack of adequate food, Vernon Dursley had accidentally stepped on his back when Harry was busy waxing the floor, and had snapped two ribs inside his fragile chest. Harry had moaned in pain, and Vernon Dusley—assaulted by mixed feelings, including a sense of surprise, and something _else_ (which suspiciously felt like arousal from the small moan)—had felt revolted at himself. He had vented his disgust by whipping the small boy: 20 lashes total, using a belt buckle. The wounds closed themselves after 20 hours of agony—and his ribs were already healed and back in their proper places 2 days afterwards; still, the week alone was devastating.

Harry Potter gave the letter to his uncle and watched emotionlessly as his uncle's face became purple. He didn't know what exactly was happening, but a small, happy voice inside his head knew that he would end up hurt badly—and that voice spoke out of glee, for finally, he had gained a real chance to die.

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><p>The hat on top of his head was big, and easily engulfed his whole head. Harry closed his eyes, wondering what would happen. The sudden darkness brought on by the hat was welcome, and he suddenly felt at ease. He felt something probing around in his mind. Would he be able die now?<p>

'_No, I __won't__ even hurt you, Harry Potter. I am only here to assign you __to the__H__ouse you should be in.'_

Harry felt a bit of surprise when he heard the voice speak in his head. A bit of his heart yearned to call back to it. Was that his dad's voice?

'_Sadly, I am not your father, Harry Potter. I am truly sorry.' _

Ah. Harry nodded solemnly. Again, his wishful thinking had disappointed him.

'…_I cannot respond to this. This is the saddest wish I have ever heard of, in my old age. Why do you think death would be welcome and good?'_

The hat was talking to him, Harry realized. So he mumbled his answer, 'Because freaks are not supposed to live, am I correct?'

'_Harry, you are not a freak.' _

'Yes I am. It is easier for me to think that way.'

'_What you truly need now is therapy. Would you like me to arrange a session with the Headmaster?' _

'Will he help me by killing me?'

'_No, he won't.' _

'Then I don't need him. I am fine like this. I just want to sleep and die. Maybe then I can see my parents and apologize to them for giving birth to me,' Harry answered with a soft smile.

'_Alright, fine. But I need to sort you into a House now. … I can only suggest Slytherin. Your ambition to die is remarkable. Yet you have never seriously pursued it. Maybe … you don't really want to die?' _

The comment woke Harry up. Impossible; he had wanted to die ever since he could remember. To watch the nice family act in front of him, to realize that he was nothing but an unwanted pest, a freak; the pain he carried was truly unbearable. He had been living with an accumulated eleven years' worth of mental and physical pain, but now this talking hat was saying that he didn't want to die? Was the hat kidding? Did he think that Harry wanted to live in pain all his life? Hadn't he suffered enough?

'_You don't need to die, my dear boy. You deserve a better life. Not death.' _

Harry clutched his chest. The new robe he was wearing was very new and the starched folds felt weird in his small hand. His chest was throbbing in pain. Why?

'_Maybe… Well maybe this can help. __**SLYTHERIN**__!' _

The hall was silent. Harry Potter, the poster boy for the light, had been sorted into Slytherin.

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><p>The room was bigger than his entire elementary school. And he occupied such a big room with a mere 6 other boys. Harry was amazed and in awe. But apparently he was the only one who was impressed, as the other boys were vocal about their disappointment regarding sharing a room with one another. Especially the one called Draco Malfoy.<p>

"I need to share a room with all of you? This is outrageous! I will tell my father about this."

Harry ignored the exclamations and went to his side of the room. A bed, larger than one he could ever wish for (and way, way better than his cot at home) was waiting for him. On top of the bed was the trunk he'd purchased when he went to Diagon Alley with Hagrid. Harry looked around and found that he had a big wardrobe, bigger than his whole cupboard under the stairs, and all of it just for his clothes. There was also a nice desk made from heavy wood. Everything was just too good to be true.

His hand twitched badly. Harry stifled his moan. His arm hadn't healed nicely yet. The week before the 1st of September had simply been hell. His right arm was broken in so many places that even past one week, it hadn't healed like it would usually. His body was still stiff and in pain, coupled with the continuous pain in his tummy. Uncle Vernon had bought a whip especially tailored for him, and between the kicks and the punches and the whip, Harry couldn't really recall what had exactly happened.

It was the only thing he knew: pain, pain and pain. After that, blackness. Then pain, pain and more pain.

"Hey Potter." Suddenly a voice called to him, so Harry turned his body and saw that the blonde boy, Malfoy, was standing in front of him. Harry felt even smaller than he already was, and he squirmed and bit his lower lip.

"..Yes?"

"I am Draco Malfoy, and I am pleased to welcome you in Slytherin. You chose the right path, Potter. Just like I was saying in the train. The right connection brings you to the best places."

Harry wasn't sure what to answer to that, so he nodded and muttered thanks. After that, the boy left him alone and others came to him to introduce themselves.

Harry was overwhelmed, and offered his left hand, as his right was in no form to shake others' hands. The other boys simply assumed he was left handed, and offered their left hands to him as well.

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><p>The only thing Harry remembered from the Great Feast was Dumbledore's comment how 'the third corridor is forbidden unless the student wants to die in a most painful way.' Harry perked at the announcement and made a mental note of it; it was the first time that month he became sure that he could die very soon. He would definitely go to the third corridor and die. That was a wonderful thing. Maybe the whole 'being-a-wizard' business wasn't as bad as he had previously thought. For apparently even the headmaster of the school encouraged their students to seek death!<p>

The magic classes started—and he realized that they weren't all that different from the classes at his previous school. Everybody aside from Slytherin thought that he had somehow betrayed them by choosing to be a "snake," so they either ignored him, or settled on being hostile to him. Harry accepted the treatment in stride, because he really hadn't expected anything else. The only difference was that, this time around, the Slytherin House seemed to protect him, which, in his opinion, that goodwill was a bit too wasteful on a 'freak' like him.

He managed to change the match into a needle without using his wand. But when he looked around, nobody had achieved the same thing- and they were all using their wands. So Harry came to the conclusion that doing the transfiguration with a wand was supposed to be harder. He changed the needle back into a match, then tried the trick again, this time using his wand.

During the process, the wand shook sadly in his left hand, and yet Harry easily changed the match back into a silver needle. When he looked around again, nobody had done the same thing, so he changed back the match and stopped doing anything. He definitely didn't want to stick out like a sore thumb; he didn't want to become a target of any bullies for fear that he already was one from being faster than his peers.

"Good job, Ms. Granger. Five points to Gryffindor," the strict teacher called out, and Harry realized that there was somebody else who had also changed their match into a needle. Harry let out a sigh and let himself rest. Good, he wasn't the main freak in the room.

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><p>Charms was another class where Harry felt weird. He stared at his feather and he could see it slowly rising into the air. But when he looked around, everybody was still trying hard to levitate the feather with their wands. Their seriousness made Harry feel weird. Why did they have to put so much effort into simply levitating a light little feather? Was this how the 'normals' of the 'freaks' acted? Did this mean that he was a freak amongst even the 'freaks'?<p>

"Harry, your feather is rising!" A sudden exclamation came from his side, from a boy named Blaise Zabini, and it startled Harry. He quickly put the feather down, using only the movements of his eye. The feather dropped to the desk.

"Oh, maybe I was just imagining things." The boy then turned back to his feather, flicking his own wand to levitate his feather. Harry swallowed hard. He almost got caught. No. He didn't want to get caught. He didn't want to be the freak amongst the 'freaks'.

His chest was in pain. His tummy ache came back. His palms started to sweat. And all he wanted to do was curl on the cot inside the cupboard under the stairs.

He wanted to die so much. So much.

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><p>Blaise Zabini watched as his dorm-mate named Harry Potter walked beside him to the Potions class. He was enthralled by the mystery of the Boy-Who-Lived. Contrary to the expectations of the wizarding world, Harry Potter had been sorted into Slytherin. Furthermore, he was so silent, almost as though he weren't there. Just by looking at the boy, Blaise felt pity, as well as a sense of intense protectiveness over the boy. He was so small. Even by their first-years' standard. Harry Potter was as small as the most petite witch in their House.<p>

And he kept to himself. After two days of being together during classes and in the dorms, all Blaise knew about Harry was that Harry's full name was Harry Potter, he was male, he was tiny, he ate very little and talked even less, he was left handed and he was in constant fear of something.

Oh, and he clutched his chest robes a lot.

Blaise walked in silence, as he observed the other boy more deeply. Right, the boy looked like a small girl. Long untamed black hair; an old pair of glasses rimmed by blackened iron. He was decked in a set of new outer robes, but underneath, Blaise could catch glimpses of ugly oversized trousers and old trainers. Long eyelashes, framing green eyes that were always fixed on the floor. Quite cute, actually.

They entered the dungeon and hurried to one of the desks. Just as they were nicely seated, a billowing big bat came into the room. Upon clearer observation, they realized that it wasn't a bat; he was actually their teacher and the Head of Slytherin House, Professor Serverus Snape.

"I am here to teach you the art of potions. It is a dangerous art, yet it is also very rewarding. It is not something you idiots can learn by simply swishing your wands everywhere. Put them away, and always pay attention, because in here, your life is always at stake."

Blaise put on his usual expressionless mask. The Head of their House was really intimidating.

The professor started calling out names to take attendance. Once he got there, he stopped at Harry's name.

"…Ah, our new celebrity."

Blaise turned to his friend, and looked at Harry. The boy looked unaffected. He was still staring at his desk.

"I will not tolerate cheeky behaviour. Be polite and look up when your name is called!"

Harry glanced up to look directly at the professor. He could feel the contempt and hatred emulating from the black haired man. And he wasn't sure how to react. He was used to this. He knew that most people hated him anyway, so what was one more professor on the list?

"Potter! Where can I find a bezoar?"

Harry blinked. Where? What?

"I see that popularity is not everything. Let's try one more. What is the difference between wolfsbane and monkshood?"

Harry slowly went to his book, opening it, but Snape was faster.

"Who said you could read the book? Are you that useless, Potter? I guess that having a famous name is not everything. You need to learn more, if you want to survive this class."

Harry nodded solemnly and waited.

Irked with the lack of reaction, Snape snapped. "Detention tonight! Come to my office at 8 this evening!"

Harry nodded. But he was still silent. Some of the Gryffindors smirked, as they thought Potter, even being the Boy-Who-Lived, wasn't all _that_ now that he was sorted into the "snake house."

"Silence, the rest of you!" Snape bellowed. He then continued the roll call and ordered them to do the assigned potions for the day.

Blaise was infuriated with the unfairness of the situation. Even he, having had previous tutelage from his mother, wouldn't have known anything about the wolfsbane thing. He knew about bezoars, of course, but the other questions were set up just to embarrass Harry. And to think that this was coming from their Head of House!

Apparently he wasn't the only one frustrated with the situation. Most of his Slytherin classmates were thinking along the same lines. But being Slytherins, they wouldn't act rashly like the Gryffindors, who would probably have clamoured right then and there for justice. They waited instead to see whether standing up for Potter would bring any advantages for them. So in the end, nobody offered Harry any help and frankly, Harry didn't expect any.

He just wanted to die. Please, the sooner the better. The feelings of humiliation were not as bad as the pain in his chest. He always made people hate him, never the other way around; never did they choose to love him. And it made his chest feel so, so very painful.

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><p>He knocked on the door and was ordered to enter. Professor Snape was behind his desk, marking up some summer homework from his upper classes, and didn't spare him a glance when Harry came in.<p>

"Clean all the pots by the corner of the room. No magic allowed."

Harry let a sigh. Maybe this wasn't as bad as he thought it would be. Detention seemed to be akin to his usual chores at home anyway. And so he had been worrying over nothing for the whole dinner.

"Why are you sighing? Are you looking down on me!"

Harry quickly shook his head and directed his gaze towards the floor. It was best to simply let the anger be vented on him. The quicker the anger was vented, the faster he would be left alone to clean the cauldrons. He preferred the silence of menial chores, to a kick to his still painful stomach.

"Look at me, brat!"

And Harry showed his eyes to the professor. The next moment he felt a familiar sensation of probing, not unlike how the hat had treated him. Ah, he was not dying then.

"..What do you mean 'not dying'? Are you an idiot, Potter?"

"Yes, sir," Harry answered, and lowered his eyes. He really wanted to run to the third level corridor now. A painful death never sounded so good.

"Why, you are already thinking of going to the forbidden place? So you think you are above the rules, hmm, Potter? You arrogant, attention seeking brat!"

"…I am sorry, sir. Forgive me."

"So you think that because you are famous, everything will be forgiven just by apologizing? Have you no shame at all?"

"I am sorry, sir."

"Pathetic. Go and do your work!"

So Harry turned around and started cleaning. His right hand and arm were still bothering him. There were black spots on his skin, indicating possible blood blockages in the area. And his right arm was still a bit sore, so Harry used his left hand as much as possible.

He scrubbed and scrubbed. It was a bit harder without his right hand, so he was slower than usual. But after half an hour, he managed to finish all the cleaning.

"I am finished, sir."

"…" Snape was shocked. Barely half an hour had passed since the boy had started cleaning, and now he was finished? What an arrogant liar!

"Let me check, you liar!"

Harry flinched. "I am sorry sir, if I was not fast enough."

Snape raised an eyebrow to that statement, but he checked the pots All 30 cauldrons were cleaned and sparkling, as though as they had been waxed diligently. It was a far cry from their initial state. So apparently, the boy hadn't been lying.

"..You must have used magic."

Harry shook his head. "No sir. I didn't. I followed your orders perfectly.'

"Liar! Show me your hand!"

Harry showed him his left hand, which was wrinkled from prolonged contact with soap and water. Snape sneered and saw that the boy wasn't offering his right hand.

"Your other hand!"

Harry stopped, but he finally showed him. And Snape was truly shocked.

That hand, that small thin arm, was covered in black bruises. The palm looked brownish and filled with so many scars while the fingers… they were in a truly devastating state. Snape suspected that at least his smallest and middle fingers were broken. They were each bent at an impossible angle.

"What on earth happened to your arm, Potter?"

Harry quickly hid his arm, but Snape reached out and caught it, causing Harry to whine from pain. Realizing that the root of the injury was not as important as treating it at the moment, Snape grabbed the boy's shoulder and ushered him onto the sofa.

"Sit," Snape ordered, and he went to his cupboard to take out his pain relief potion. He then gave it to Harry.

"Drink."

The boy drank it wordlessly. And his eyes suddenly opened up wide. His pain was gone!

"Are you still in pain, now?"

Harry shook his head. "No, sir. Thank you sir."

"Good. What I gave you was my pain relief potion, and now I will give you a blood diluting potion. After that we should go to the infirmary."

The potions' names made Harry perk up. He looked up at Snape and whispered.

"Sir?"

"Yes?"

"…There are so many types of potions, aren't there?"

"Yes of course, Potter. Why?"

"Is there… Is there a potion for instant death?"

Snape raged. "You! You idiotic brat! You think you can poison me with that?"

Harry paled. "N..No, sir! I just want a painless death. It's for me only, sir!"

"For you?" Snape peered down and saw no lie in the boy's green eyes. Lily's eyes were looking at him in hope and desperation.

"Yes sir. Is there? Can I… Can I have it? I can give you all my money, sir! I have much in the Gringotts vault!"

"Potter…"

"Will it not be enough, sir? I have also other things—I have a brand new trunk! Also, my new potions set! Also all my books! And I also have an owl if you want it in exchange!"

"Potter, listen to me."

"Please, please sir! I'll give you everything! Anything! I can give you my body as well! You can use order me to do anything, anything! Just… Just give me…"

And he started to sob. He wanted to die so much, so much. His chest was so painful. Just give him the potion so that he could die, please, please… the recent relief from the pain in his right hand had made the pain in his chest even more unbearable.

"Potter, calm down." Snape started to panic. What was happening? The boy who hadn't given him any reaction from his taunting was suddenly crying desperately, begging him for poison. It was beyond disturbing. An 11 year old, asking for death. It wasn't normal at all.

Harry sobbed and sobbed, completely losing his composure. He was so scared and angry and disappointed and disturbed and confused and in such deep mental pain. Why couldn't he just be normal? Even the people of the wizarding world denied him what he desired most, death. Where could he get his wish?

"Potter, why are you asking for death?"

Harry managed to stop his sobbing, and he looked up. His vision was blurry.

"Because I don't deserve to live, sir."

"Who told you such a thing?"

"Uncle Vernon. Aunt Petunia. Aunt Marge. Duddley. Mrs. Lee, Mrs. Campbell, Mrs. Carla, everyone. Even my parents are dead only because they never wanted me, sir. I just want to die and in this way say sorry to all of them for being born, sir. I am sorry."

"Potter. Calm down. Think. Listen. Your parents are not dead because they didn't want you. The Dark Lord killed them."

"You don't need to lie to me, sir. Hagrid told me the same thing, but again, I don't need the comfort of lies, sir! I know the truth. My relatives told me the truth. They always are truthful. I don't need sugar coated lies, sir. I understand reality."

"Potter…"

"I tried, sir. I can't. My wounds always closed before I bled to death. The cars never hit me. I always wakes up every morning; Uncle Vernon never succeeded in silencing me. I don't know what's wrong with me, sir. I can't die. I have tried so hard but I always fail. I swear! So please give me the potion sir, please?"

"I cannot reason with you like this, Potter, when your mind is in total chaos. You need to lie down and sleep. Do you understand me, Potter?"

Harry couldn't comprehend him. He was simply disappointed in his professor.

"Don't you hate me as well, sir? Why won't you let me die?"

"Potter?"

"I promise I won't be a hassle once I die, sir. I won't bother you again. I am so sorry for whatever it is, so please give me death."

"Potter, you are getting ridiculous…" Snape was getting embarrassed. Harry's assessment of his motives wasn't that far from the truth.

Harry slumped in his seat. The professor hated him so much that he wouldn't even let him die. Snape wouldn't let him have his wish. What a disappointment. What was he thinking anyway? Asking for death from people who hated him? They wouldn't help him, of course!

With that, Harry clenched his teeth and stood up. Before Snape realized what was happening, Harry had run to the door and bolted through the opening.

Snape cursed, getting up and running after him. But when he saw the empty corridor, he realized it was too late.

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><p>Harry ran through the corridor. It was rather dark, but he didn't care. He wanted to find a place like his cupboard under the stairs. Just a quiet, small place where he could curl up and die. Preferably peacefully. Maybe, once he was holed up, he could start to starve himself to death. He could survive without food for 5 days. Maybe if he didn't eat for a whole two weeks, he would start rotting and eventually die.<p>

He didn't watch where he was going, and so he collided in the next second with another body. Harry stumbled onto the floor; his glasses flew from his face and skittered away from him. Harry's myopic eyes couldn't make out anything.

"Potter?"

From the voice, it had to be a teacher. The voice belonged to a male; an older person. A teacher.

"What are you doing here?"

"I… I was…"

"Are you crying?" the voice asked him. Harry nodded, neither recognizing the speaker nor caring who it was. Whoever the person was, he knew that they would probably not grant his death wish. So he didn't care.

"Where are you going, Potter?"

Harry's head snapped up at the question. Right, where he was going again?

_The third level corridor… painful death… _

"The third level corridor, sir. I want to go there."

Silence followed that answer for a while. Then the professor answered in another voice.

"…_I'll take you there, Harry Potter_."

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><p>TBC<p>

review?


	2. Chapter 2

Betaed By Blind_Alchemist. Thank you very much, my dear!

Thank you for the reviews.

Enjoy!

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><p>Harry trailed after the billowing robes. They were walking in silence, and the professor was walking in front of him, leading him. Yet, although the professor's back was turned, Harry felt some sort of attention directed on him. He was somehow being watched. Maybe the professor had eyes on the back of his head. Harry's blurry vision didn't help him decipher the source; he couldn't see clearly what was happening. And truthfully, he didn't care.<p>

He was finally going to face a painful death.

"This is the third level corridor, Harry Potter," the professor told him. They stood in front of a door. "What would you like to do?"

"…I want to enter it, sir." _And die. How lovely. _

"Alright, then go in."

Harry moved forward. He could see the outline of a door, but he couldn't see it very clearly. His left arm stretched to touch the door, and finally after feeling the wood beneath his fingers, he found the knob. When he tried to turn the knob to open, though, that door wouldn't budge.

"It is locked." Harry felt a bit disappointed. Of course it was locked. When had Harry ever gotten it so easy?

"I can open it for you," the professor answered. "_Alomohora_."

The door was opened. Harry walked through the doorway, and he could hear some strange voices. When he looked around, however, he couldn't see anything; he really needed his glasses.

"I… I can't see anything, sir."

"I don't see anything either, child. The room is empty. Maybe Dumbledore hasn't started planting things yet."

"Professor Dumbledore?" Harry asked in confusion. "Where is… where is the mechanism that will bring me death?"

The professor was silent for a moment. "…Is that what you seek? Death?"

Harry nodded. He rubbed his eyes, and then he realized that he was using his injured right arm. He was oblivious from the pain because of the potion he had drunk. He quickly hid his right arm. But the sight of the blackened, broken arm caught the professor's attention.

"What happened to your arm?"

"Nothing sir, I was… I was… I fell." Harry quickly hid his embarrassment as he lied. He gave the answer that adults always wanted to hear. Everybody would dismiss him as a liar anyway even when they had figured out the truth. So lying wasn't a half bad idea.

"It was not from simply falling, was it? Let me see."

Harry slowly raised his right arm and showed it to the professor. The professor touched the arm and immediately retracted when their bare skins touched, and he was hissing.

"Are you alright, sir?" Harry was surprised to see that the professor seemed like he was in pain after touching him. It was the weirdest thing. The professor bent down, knees touching the ground.

"Professor?"

"Are you trying to kill me, child?"

Harry was shocked. "N..No, professor! No!"

Then Harry felt his mind being probed again. He sighed. Exactly how many people wanted to enter his mind in a single day? Was his mind such an interesting place? He only wanted to die, and he had nothing to hide. Well, actually, he had a lot of things to hide, but basically those didn't concern him because no one would really care about any of those things anyway. He just wanted to die. And he could never get to die. Why was everything so needlessly complicated?

"…I see," the professor suddenly noted. "You don't care about whatever happens to yourself, do you? You want to die, am I correct?"

"Yes!" Harry perked up. Finally, a person he could turn to for help. Maybe this professor could really help him. The professor _had_ taken him to the third level corridor, so he might be okay with granting Harry his wish for death. Maybe, unlike professor Snape, this professor would help him kill himself.

"Then… before I assist you, I must tell you that I have one condition."

"Yes, sir?" Harry was eager to listen. Anything. Anything to help him die.

"I currently not strong enough to have a body of my own," the professor started. Harry wondered what he meant. Wasn't the professor standing in front of him? He wasn't a ghost, was he? Harry was sure the professor was made of solid. He had bumped into him after all. "…After tonight, this body will no longer sustain me. I need a new body. So give me yours and I will kill you. You die, I get your body. Deal?"

"Yes!" Harry truly smiled, for the first time in his life. His vision became blurry from tears. Finally! "Yes! Yes! Yes! Thank you very much, sir! Thank you!"

He started to sob. It was very exhilarating. He finally had secured a chance to die. Finally, finally a chance to be freed from all the pain- the pain in his chest, from the sadness, the chores, the hostile stares, the hateful glances, the unbearable emotions… it was so wonderful! Finally!

"..Don't be that happy. It makes me unwilling to grant your wish."

Harry stopped sobbing and bit back his smile. He wouldn't want that. He was finally able to die! "I am so sorry, sir. I am just too happy. I am very glad it is going to be over. I really don't want to live anymore."

"What make you so desperate, child?" The tone was heavy with pity.

"If I die, then I can meet my parents. Then I can apologize to them for everything. I killed them."

"Really? Here I thought the Dark Lord killed them."

"Why is everyone telling me that? I am not a kid anymore. I know that reality is harsh, sir. My relatives have made sure that I am aware of the truth. My parents were driving around drunk one night and crashed. They were drunk because they didn't want me. I am a freak. Nobody wants me. I killed them. So if I die, I can apologize to them. Then maybe… maybe they will love me… because… they are dead, and since I would be dead, we'd all be dead together anyway… and they are my parents after all, so they… they would forgive me, right?"

"…Prepare yourself, child."

Harry closed his eyes. This was it. He was going to die. Oh, it was so wonderful… So… wonderful… and then the pain hit him, robbing him of his consciousness.

* * *

><p>When he opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was the ceiling.<p>

Harry Potter blinked. And blinked again. Everything looked so clear. He could see perfectly without his glasses. And it his vision was even clearer than when he had his glasses. He could see every single board and stone in the design of the ceiling. He could see the details and carvings perfectly. He could see everything much clearer, like an eagle.

And that meant he was still alive.

A heavy feeling fell into the pit of his stomach. Well, so much for the good dream. He needed to wake up. He should prepare breakfast. He didn't do it yesterday out of exhaustion and he also wasn't paying attention. But now the professor Snape knew about his condition and surely, wouldn't he want Harry to start working to pay for his school fees? Just like the Dursleys. And that made him wonder. Should he clean and cook at Hogwarts, as well? If yes, where to start? Where was the kitchen anyway?

_Silly child, of course you don't need to cook or clean here. The house elves will do it._

Harry was frozen. That voice. It was the strange professor's voice. Why was it inside his head?

_It's our agreement, child. I will reside in you and you will feed me with your magic. Then when I am strong enough, I will kill you. _

Oh. Harry slumped. Will that take a long time? he mentally inquired of the voice.

The voice was silent.

Never mind, then. Harry sighed and opened the curtains. He was back in his dorm, surrounded by soft snores coming from the other 5 beds inside the room. And then he remembered his glasses.

_I have taken care of that. You don't need those hideous glasses anymore. _

Oh. Harry wondered why. Maybe the professor wanted a better body? But it was good, in a way; now he didn't need to use the heavy iron glasses anymore, and he could see even clearer than he ever had before. He then slowly walked to the bathroom, looking around.

_What are you looking around for? _

What time was it?

_Let me tell you the spell. Tempus! _

Harry repeated it softly and a suspended hourglass appeared in front of him. He couldn't decipher anything from the hourglass, but apparently the professor could.

_It's half past six. _

Thank you, Harry spoke to the voice in his mind, and smiled. He had woken up late today, it seemed. The hourglass disappeared and Harry proceeded to the toilet to wash his face.

_Late? It's only half past six! _

Harry didn't answer as he recalled his usual internal timetable—wake up at four, clean up the kitchen, prepare breakfast, and then fetch the newspaper. Then he would prepare for school, waiting as the whole Dursley family ate their breakfasts—sometimes he got lucky and he was given scraps; a bit of toast or a bit of sausage, when his aunt was feeling unusually generous good, but usually he simply stood there making sure the family had everything they wanted—and then, finally, he would go to school. Remembering those steps made it easier for the professor to now see the records of what he usually did.

His chest had started hurting again. Harry rubbed his eyes. His body felt so stiff.

Then he realized with a start that his right hand wasn't black-looking or injured anymore. It looked healthy and normal. How did this happen? Usually the injuries would remain for at least another half a day.

_I healed it. I don't want my host body to have the quality of garbage. _

Oh. Harry nodded. He knew the voice was speaking the truth. His body was not fit at all; it was too small, scrawny, and full of scars and bruises. The professor must be regretting the fact he was inside Harry now. But he still thanked the professor.

_You don't need to thank me; I am doing this for my own benefit, after all. _

Yes, sir, Harry whispered into his mind, and went to his side of the room. The bed had already been made, and it looked pristine and very inviting. Harry was shocked. When had he cleaned the bed?

_The elf made it. Don't worry about it. _

Harry wanted to know who the elf was, so that he could thank him. But he didn't know where to go. So he climbed into his bed again, and started to read his books.

The books were fascinating. Harry felt like he was reading story books rather than textbooks. Every book that was assigned to him was all about magic. It felt a bit surreal to Harry. But he loved reading. Reading was the only time when he could pretend that he wasn't Harry Potter, the freak amongst 'freaks'. He was just an observer. He was nothing. He had nothing to hide, and all he had to do was wait until everything unravelled. Little did he know that his way of learning adapted him more to the core of the subject, without actually forcing himself to remember each lesson, word for word. He understood the essence of what was being taught, and it was all that mattered, right?

* * *

><p>Blaise shook him, interrupting his reading.<p>

"Potter, it is time to go down for breakfast. Professor Snape ordered us not to be late, remember?"

Harry nodded and thanked the boy. He quickly changed and followed Blaise down to the common room. The first year girls were already there and they move together as a group for the first morning. Harry felt some people's eyes on him. But he was used to it, and it bothered him less than on the first day of being in.

By the time he'd sat at the Slytherin table, a professor suddenly materialized behind him.

"Potter, follow me."

Harry looked up and saw it was Professor Snape who was hovering on him. He quickly nodded and stood up, leaving the table with the professor. His house mates looked at him in blatant interest. Harry couldn't care less for them. His only concern now was regarding that of Professor Snape. Would he give Harry another detention?

They walked and walked, and finally they stopped in front of a white door. Harry entered the room and saw that it was the school infirmary. A lady in a nightingale-style nursing dress was there, waiting for them.

"Please give him the usual."

Harry looked up. What was the 'usual'? Did that mean something like a potion? Maybe he would get his wish after all. He was ordered to sit on the bed and undo his robe. When the professor and the nurse lady saw Duddley's old hand-me-down shirt, they frowned. The lady then used her wand on to X-ray Harry. Harry felt the wand scanning his body, and it felt a bit ticklish.

A scroll magically appeared out of thin air. Both his professor and the lady started to read the scroll. It was quite long, and Harry waited patiently, watching as their faces slowly turned dark. Unlike his uncle Vernon, who turned purple, they turned red. And They were obviously either alarmed, or angry.

"Serverus! This! I can't even…!"

His professor grimaced. Harry knew that he was done for. He had somehow made another mistake again. Well, maybe they would kill him this time. But of course, he should apologize first.

"I am sorry, sir, madam," he apologized softly. "I am so sorry."

"What are you sorry for, Potter?" his professor asked, in a weird tone. As though he were truly concerned.

"I am so sorry for whatever the scroll is saying. I am not sure what it reads, but everything is always my fault anyway. I can do something about it. Just tell me what to do. I will do it."

"Potter, this is not your fault." The lady smiled gently, and she placed a comforting gentle hand on his shoulder. Harry flinched a bit. It was quite scary. He'd never liked people touching him. The touches always ended up in pain.

"You will stay here, Potter, until Madam Pomfrey sees you are fit to attend the classes again. I will send some books for you to read, but you need to rest now. She will give you some potions, and it will be a bit painful going down, as we need to regrow your ribs and the bones in your feet and hands…" Professor Snape trailed off as he realized that Harry's hand was already healed. "What happened to your hand, Potter?"

"…I healed it, sir."

"_You_ healed it?"

"I mean…" Harry was on the verge of telling him about the other professor inside his head, but the voice immediately shut him up.

_Don't tell him about me. _

Harry nodded. Snape looked even more suspicious. "I… I always heal the injuries by myself, sir. I'd expected the hand injuries to heal by now, and the pain will go away soon, sir. I am fine."

"Potter." Snape bowed down so that their eyes were on the same level. "Don't lie to me. Look at me."

Harry felt another probing occurring within his mind. He quickly shut the probing sensation out. He had the feeling that if he let the professor in, then the other professor inside him would surely be discovered. And he didn't want that. Because he wanted the professor inside him to survive so that he could kill him in the end.

Snape was shocked. His Legilimency had been deflected by an 11 year old. Yesterday he could enter Harry's mind with no problem. Why couldn't he do it now?

"Potter, do you know Occlumency?"

Harry shook his head. He didn't know anything. The term meant little to him. Nothing.

Snape sighed. "Fine. But you will need to the rest. Pomfrey, I'll leave him with you."

The lady nodded and Harry felt like he was going to be in for some immense pain.

* * *

><p>It was pain, pain, pain all over again. But it was all exploding inside him; nothing was visible on the outside. Madam Pomfrey did tell him that re-growing the bones was going to be terrible, and that she couldn't administer the pain relief potion because it would counteract with the bone-healing potion. Harry was no stranger to pain, but this definitely took the crown. He started to sob. <em>Please make it stop. Please<em>. He was so helpless. Why was it that everyone wanted to harm him, yet stop short of killing him? Why?

_Hang in there, child. I can numb your nerves so that you won't feel pain. _

And truthfully, it did work. Suddenly the pain was gone and he slumped, relieved, onto the mattress. It was softer than his cot at home, but not as soft as his bed down in the Slytherin dorm. His body felt light, as though he didn't have one. Without the pain, he felt like he could actually fly.

Thank you, Harry whispered. Thank you. It is so much better now. Thank you very much.

_My pleasure. _

Nobody had ever done this for to him. Nobody had ever lessened the pain; they had only inflicted it. It was a novel experience for Harry. He could even see clearer now, without his glasses, and all because of the professor. He was so grateful. But then again, he still didn't even know the professor's name. So he asked for it directly.

_Knowing my true name is not to be one of your concerns. But for the time being, you can call me Marvolo. _

Oh. Harry nodded. At the same time, Madam Pomfrey came back with another vial and some water. She asked Harry to finish the water and then drink another vial of potion. Immediately after drinking the potion, Harry fell back onto the mattress and went into a deep slumber.

* * *

><p><em>Pity<em> was definitely an emotion he would never associate with himself. He, the Lord Voldemort, was the Dark Lord. He feared nothing, sympathized with no one. He was the most powerful wizard in the wizarding world, aside from Dumbledore. He was had been at the height of his success when he'd heard about the prophecy, and at the time, it seemed to be just a small, minor problem. He'd gone to the targeted house in order to kill the prophesized child. But upon meeting the child, he'd been was reduced to a mere soul being after being defeated. After that, he had felt nothing but shame and weakness.

He was forced to run far away, for he knew that in his weakened state he would be much more vulnerable to death. And somehow the strength of his soul had been depleted yet again—he had a huge suspicion that he had made the child into another Horcrux. But now wasn't the time to contemplate his wrongdoings; he needed to find a way to return to his former glory, and fast.

So he'd first possessed a random, lowly animal in order to live. And then, unexpectedly, some form of luck arrived. He'd met Quirell in a secluded forest and was able to quickly possess the man by seducing him into thinking that, as Voldemort, he would be able to grant Quirell enormous, unprecedented prestige as soon as when he'd won the war. Of course, Voldemort was nothing short of a the first class seducer; he knew the every nook and cranny of a person's wishful heart, and how exactly to exploit them. In fact, he loved doing this. Each and every time, he'd simply use the possessed person by giving them empty promises to fulfil their wish, and then immediately throw them away afterwards.

He'd heard the news that the Philosopher's Stone was in Gringotts. He'd gone there to steal it but had ultimately been rewarded with nothing. After all the careful, masterminded planning, he had been outsmarted once again by Dumbledore. But then he saw the child of the prophecy and for the first time, felt ashamed of himself to have been defeated by such a small boy.

So he had gone to Hogwarts, and when he'd heard the announcement by Dumbledore, he knew for sure the stone had to be inside the third corridor. The extent of his surprise had only been matched by that of the shocked of Harry Potter, after being sorted into Slytherin. Interesting. Everyone would have thought that Harry Potter would end up being the Golden Boy of Gryffindor. But well, he couldn't be bothered with such trivial matters. All he needed now was the Stone. He had been planning to get it straight away, but in the process, had been interrupted by a bump into a child. And it was just his luck that that child happened to be the Boy-Who-Lived, Harry Potter.

He thought the boy would be an arrogant, pompous, weak boy in person. He had expected him to appear fat and stupid and overly confident of himself. The entire wizarding world was always more than ready to pamper their perceived saviour. But when he saw with his own eyes the reality before him, he was truly shocked. Disappointed, even.

The boy was, in short, nothing. He was a scrawny, silent child. His ugly gasses even made the boy look even more like an idiot. Quirrell had not yet had a class with him, so he had been looking forward to it. But fate must have noted that they needed to meet again sooner. And the boy had shocked him when he had said that he'd wanted to go to the third level corridor. That fast…? Maybe the Sorting Hat had sorted the boy wrongly. He should definitely have been sorted into Gryffindor, due to his obvious blatant stupidity.

When he'd seen that nothing was actually in the room, he was disappointed. Maybe the traps weren't there yet. Or maybe it was all just a trick by Dumbledore. He was ready to blow up when he realized that he was stuck in there with the brat. And he was surprised to see that the boy was disappointed as well. Further discussion revealed what the brat truly wanted.

To die.

Oh, the irony. Voldemort was ready to kill him there and then. It was just too easy; the boy had even offered it. And then he saw the boy's hand. The twisted and blackened hand. He knew what had caused it, from personal experience. He had suffered from those kinds of wounds as well when he was still living in the orphanage. Bruises from hard kicks and punches.

When he touched the boy, Quirell moaned from pain. While he cursed the useless, frail body he was in, his mind wandered. What was this? Interesting. The boy had some kind of protection from harm. Maybe he wasn't as weak as Voldemort had thought him to be. And then he asked the boy what he wished for. The boy had eagerly answered again.

Death.

It was a bit weird to hear such a reply, even for a Dark Lord like him, but well, as a master of seduction, of course he had offered the boy the chance for death and, in exchange, he would stay inside the child's body, sucking his power out. It had to be the best deal he'd ever made, and he had jumped right in. He didn't care about his current host's, Quirell's, fate; upon his exiting, the stupid man had then immediately shrivelled to blackened bits and ashes.

He started to look around in the boy's mind. He found a strong natural aptitude for Occlumency, and the irony was that the boy's Occlumency-strengthened mental walls were forged from the boy's absolute and steadfast wish to die. It seemed that because of his strong wish, Harry Potter could withstand anything and everything. And further probing in the boy's mind revealed to him that the boy's magical core was immense; almost as powerful as that of seventh year, despite Harry Potter's being only a first year.

Not only willing, but powerful as well. This had to be the cherry on top of the cake.

With these resources at his disposal, Dumbledore was done for. The Headmaster wouldn't be able to guess that his Golden Boy was being possessed by the Lord Voldemort himself. It was very, very sweet. Voldemort laughed so hard to himself while the boy slept.

And then, because he was bored, and perhaps felt like he deserved a respite of sorts, Voldemort had probed deeper into Harry's mind, just for the fun of it. Well, he was actually intrigued by what he found. The boy's wish to die was so strong. And so was his reasoning behind it…

Pity was the first emotion he felt. Unbelievable rage came next. He couldn't believe what the Muggles had done to Harry Potter. And then he realized that Dumbledore was the proverbial man behind the curtain. He was the one who'd let the boy be raised by the worst types of Muggles possible. It was all Dumbledore's game. And then he realized, with a start, that a piece of his soul resided inside Harry Potter's scar.

When he realized what was actually happening, he came to one conclusion: Dumbledore was preparing Harry for death, as he was one of Voldemort's Horcruxes. He had put Harry in a harsh environment childhood, so that Harry would be grateful for the comparative kindness from the residents of the the wizarding world, and would be no doubt willing to sacrifice himself to protect that world. And it was just so cruel and manipulative. Voldemort couldn't believe how heartless and Slytherin-like Dumbledore actually was.

When the boy had woken up and realized he wasn't dead, the disappointment was very painfully acute and honest. It had crushed Voldemort's mind, as he shared a bit of that connection with Harry. It seemed that even so, Harry no longer cared about anything, since he was used to disappointment. It had also made Voldemort want to convince Harry of the reverse. He wouldn't disappoint the child again. Harry's childhood had been even worse than Voldemort's; at least the Dark Lord had been taunted by stupid Muggles that were not related to him. The boy had been tortured by his own blood relatives. It was absolutely no wonder that Harry Potter didn't have any self-esteem at all. And that all he wanted to do was die. Voldemort would make sure that the boy was, at least, _happy_ before he died at Voldemort's hands.

This, again, was ironic because the child's power was so immense that he couldn't kill himself. The power of healing Harry possessed was very powerful, all Voldemort had to do was just focus the power on the hand. Within half an hour, the hand returned into its normal state. With the eyes, it took longer, but he finished correcting Harry's vision in 4 hours. Apparently the injured hands weren't healed yet when he had first come upon Harry, because Harry's magic had been healing his injured kidney (and other suspiciously healed internal organs) first.

And then, another thought slipped into the Dark Lord's mind. If there was a piece of him already existing inside the boy while he himself was also currently inside, there should be at least two parts of his own soul leeching the magic out of Harry's core. And yet, the child was still so powerful. It was impossible.

So many mysteries surrounded the boy.

The Dark Lord had a new toy.

* * *

><p>Review please?<p> 


	3. Chapter 3

For my atrocious grammar, I want to apologize. I promise to get a beta.

Aside from that, please remember Harry is only 11 years old. after this, he will be harder and colder, I want to show the process as rational as possible.

Thank you for the review, I really enjoy them.

Enjoy!

* * *

><p>The months passed slowly. The first week was filled with nutrition potions and sleep. Harry was held in the infirmary for five more days. Blaise came sometimes, and Harry was grateful for it. The boy even took notes for him. He has no other visitor, though. But the most helpful one is Marvolo. The professor taught him a lot, from spell to history to theory; while they have nothing to do on the infirmary mattress.<p>

And it was truly a new experience for Harry to be able to have …someone with him all the time. He was used to loneliness and knew that he didn't deserve a company that wouldn't hurt him. Marvolo, simply being there and talked to him nicely instead of bullying him was a very novel thing. Having Marvolo made him very grateful to the point that the boy actually smiles and cries and promised Marvolo he will do anything the professor wants.

The weeks afterwards weren't noticeable, it was nothing unusual. Harry missed the flying classes because of his condition and such, he wasn't able to enjoy the activity like his classmates. The other classes were not a challenge, and Mavolo was surprised when he realized Harry could do all the charms and transfiguration without wands. But he acknowledged Harry's simple wish of not to flaunt his ability, as he didn't want to be a single freak amongst 'freaks'. No matter what Marvolo said, Harry always insists of hiding behind the veil of normalness—or at least what Harry considered as _normal_. However, Marvolo did help him in potion and their (Harry and Blaise's) potions always turned out perfect.

Another thing was the missing DADA professor. Professor Quirell was never found; even though his stuffs were still inside his rooms. In the end, the DADA class was taught by Dumbledore for the moment, as it was hard to find a substitute. Harry didn't quite enjoy it because Marvolo seemed to be always angry every time he saw Dumbledore. And Dumbledore's obvious preference to him was hurting Harry more than helping. Because of the preference, Harry has another reason to be bullied by the other students.

Classes aside, Harry was having a hard time as usual. School were never a good place for him; because now he is bullied mostly by the Gryfindor boys, under the power of Ronald Weasley. Every time Harry walked into the Gryfindor first years; they always called him names and sometimes smacked him, or stealing his books. Harry endured it in silence; as he didn't want to attract more trouble. He didn't bother with the books; he could borrow from the library and he has already read it all anyway. And it wasn't painful; they are just first years so they don't know how to inflict pain. Furthermore, since Marvolo has always been there, Harry's chest pain was greatly reduced as the professor always soothed him after being bullied.

Other students from upper years and other houses were a bit different to him. Some called him names, or even hexed him in corridor, calling him snakes traitor. Other simply ignored him, either pretend he wasn't there or refusing to sit around him in the library. His Slytherin house was divided into two: those who ignored him, and those who were civil to him. They ignored him because of his obvious lack of money—those clothes Harry got from Duddley were ugly and too big. Also, Harry's stuff was all normal and considered as cheap in Slytherin. Blaise was the best amongst all, as the boy was the only one who insists to have Harry together in all their classes. But Blaise have other sets of friend; and he wasn't able to be with Harry 24 hours a day.

Snape was another matter altogether. He tried to talk to Harry again, but this time Harry simply refused to see him eye to eye. When asked who hurt him, Harry simply said it was an accident. Snape then asked why he wanted to die; Harry actually blushed from embarrassment and curled up, trying to give a message that it was nothing. It repeated every single time Snape tried to talk to him. Snape sighed, because he couldn't put too much attention on a single student like this, he has the entire Slytherin house to care for.

Harry didn't care. Being with Marvolo already made him so happy. It was the happiest he ever been in years; or maybe never. He didn't open up his memory to Marvolo; the professor in his head can do it for himself. And every time Harry did a good job, Marvolo praised him. It always made Harry's eager-to-please nature so happy that he would smile the entire day and endured the bullies with smiles. Because of that, his assignments marks were improved; but practical wise Harry still pretended that he couldn't do it. He even let Blaise 'helped' him sometimes. Blaise looked so happy whenever he could teach Harry anything that he didn't notice how Harry wasn't actually listening to him.

* * *

><p>One thing Harry noticed was the morning owl post. As the birds land on the table every morning, Harry couldn't help but feeling a bit jealous. Other students at least have someone to write to and have letter from. He, on the other hand, has nobody.<p>

One day Hedwig (his owl, white, very pretty) came down onto the table. Harry's hope was up; but then he realized that Hedwig just wanted to visit him. Harry patted the bird and let her ate his beacons; drinking his pumpkin juice. He was used to disappointment; and he usually didn't let it up on his face. But maybe Blaise noticed the subtle emotion, because the next day, a letter came for him brought by Hedwig.

Harry was ecstatic. Someone actually write a letter for him! He opened the letter carefully and it was from Blaise. Harry looked up to see Blaise smiling gently to him, as if urging him to read what was written.

A package of shrunk chocolate frog fell from the letter. It was written: _For Harry, you need more sweets. You are too skinny. From Blaise. _

Harry almost cried from happiness, and he carefully tucked the shrunk chocolate frog and the letter into his robe pocket. He then smiled, very sincerely and thanked the boy. He didn't offer or eat the chocolate because it is the first time he got a gift from a friend, excluding Hedwig which was his first birthday present. He would keep the chocolate and the letter in his new trunk, so that he could always take it out to remind himself again.

Harry didn't know that his smile was very captivating. Students around them noticed Harry's smile and involuntarily blushed. The iron glasses he had in the Great Feast made people think he looked downright plain and ugly. After Harry lost his iron glasses, people started to notice his clear emerald eyes; but they still considered Harry as 'normal' or 'passable'. However after seeing Harry's innocent smile, they melted.

The next day two owls aside from his Hedwig actually give him letter and some chocolates. Harry was amazed by it, and started to open it one by one. He got three owls in total. Blaise gave him one; while the other two was without letter. But he got three chocolate frogs. He smiled to Blaise again and shared the chocolate with the boy. Harry was a bit proud since he could share something with his best friend, especially after all Blaise did for him. He offered one to Marvolo too, but the professor declined it saying that he didn't need food.

Harry's good mood about the owls evaporated when the three days after that, he got blisters from curses inside the one anonymous letter he got. He whimpered slightly when the sting curse hit him and the bottubeer pus leaked out from the letter, causing his hands to have painful boils. The boils popped and greenish slime came out of it. People around him was shocked and disgusted, but nobody except for Blaise, cared. Some even laughed. Within minutes, it became the hottest gossip on breakfast table. Having a cursed letter was not uncommon; but the recipient being the Boy-Who-Lived makes the laugh blew out of proportion. Harry, who used to think that finally people won't notice him that much, felt the embarrassment and hurt when he saw everybody was laughing at him. Professor Snape tried to save him by reducing points from people who laughed, even though some of them are Slytherins. In the end, Harry was sent to infirmary and excused from the first period of class. Blaise offered to accompany him; but Harry declined the offer, and he cried a bit when he was walking alone to the infirmary.

He was so stupid. He should have expected that. Nobody would actually like him to give him letters and chocolates. Maybe Blaise was also pretending too, and if Harry buggered him too much, then Blaise will angry and left him. Marvolo tried to soothe the boy; but somehow that morning, Harry was unable to hear anything the professor said. His occlumency barrier was so strong, fuelled by another disappointment from betrayal of trust. His chest started to throbbed again, and the pain was back.

He hated the pain.

He had enough of it.

* * *

><p>After he was treated by Madam Pomfrey, Harry walked slowly to the glass houses. He has herbiology next.<p>

_Harry! Harry! _

Finally realized that Marvolo has been calling for him, Harry answered. "Marvolo? Why are you calling me?"

_You have been ignoring me for hours now! _

Harry didn't realize it. He was busy building back his caution and burying the fake happiness he had for the last few days. He was burying everything again, behind the occlumency wall.

…_Are you ok, child?_

Harry nodded slowly, apologizing for ignoring Marvolo. His chest was tight and in pain. He has something to ask from Marvolo. "…Marvolo, may I ask something?"

_What, child? _

"Why did they do this? Why do they send me chocolates and then send me curses? Why do they laugh at me? Why do they talk about me? What is wrong with me?"

_Nothing is wrong, child. They are the fools. You are a sweet boy. _

"..I don't understand. You keep saying that I am a sweet boy, but sweet boy are not treated like this normally, right? Why would anyone hate a sweet boy? I definitely not one. What is my problem? Please don't sugar coat the truth."

_Harry, I will never lie to you. _

"…then when will I die? Have you finished refuelling your power? I don't want to live here anymore, Marvolo. I want to meet my parent."

_Child, I… I am almost done. Please hang in there. Don't care about those stupid fools. You are doing great. _

"I want… want a hug, Marvolo. I can't do this anymore. Why can't I die and let it go over with?"

_Child…. _

Suddenly Harry bumped into someone. Harry looked up and saw a boy with red hair, similar to those of Ronald Weasley's. The boy has a prefect badge.

"Are you ok?... Potter, why are you crying?"

Harry wiped his face and realized he was actually crying. He quickly wiped his face with his robes, wiping the tears dry.

"What happen? Is your hand still hurting?" The prefect squatted down so that they have the same eye line. He knew about the letter accident of course, with everybody in the Great hall regarded it as the amusement of the day. Harry bit his lips and let his misty eyes stared through the bigger boy's brown eyes. Harry asked himself, is the prefect being sincere or not, was it just another prank, should he tell him anything?

_Child, tell him what you want. _

What? Harry asked himself. What does Harry want?

_You want a hug, right? I cannot give you since I am sharing your body. But he can do it for you. _

Harry blinked. "…My hand is not hurt, thank you."

"I am glad it's fine already. Do you want me to bring you back to the infirmary?"

"…I… I have herbiology." Harry stuttered. "I am fine, just…"

"Yes?"

_Ask, child. And you will be given. _

"Can I … can I have a hug?" Harry bit his lips. His body immediately stiffened, waiting for any bad remarks, rejection or slapped he usually got from the Dursley. He really doesn't want to ask, but Marvolo tells him to so he did it.

He was suddenly embraced in an awkward hug, but it was a hug nonetheless.

And the dam burst out. Harry started to sob. Louder and louder. He clung to older boy like he was so desperate and cried his heart out. He was hugged for the first time, and it was with a stranger. Because no one in his family love him enough to hug him. He needs to beg for a hug. And a stranger gave him. A 'normal' gave him, the freak among 'freaks', a hug.

"Ssh, Po..Harry, its fine, sssh,.."

Unfortunately, the voice made him sobbed even louder. He cried again. Trying to hard to stop, yet he simply _couldn't_.

"What happened here?" suddenly a voice belonged to Professor Snape came from his back. The older boy looked up, and answered, "Harry is not feeling well, sir."

"Potter?" Snape squatted down and looked at the sobbing boy. "What happened?"

"He wouldn't stop crying, sir." The boy reported, and Harry shook his head. He can! He can stop! He will stop!

And suddenly his body was scooped up by the Slytherin professor. Harry fell into Snape's arms, and the boy sobbed back onto the Professor's shoulder. He tried to bit his lower lips and stopping himself as Snape carried him to the dungeon.

He can stop. He will stop!

"Harry… sshhh…" The soothing voice of his head of the house filled his ears. He shook his head, and wished he could die.

"Harry, Harry what happen?"

"Sir… I … Wa..want… Why cant I… I want to… die. Sir."

"Harry… stop wishing death. You are still a kid. You don't know what you are asking."

"But… death will be.. less painful… than this, sir."

"Harry…"

"I want to see my parents, I want a.. father and a mother, sir... I don't want to live here anymore. What is my fault, sir? Why did they left? Why am I a freak?"

_Child, you are not a freak. You are a great boy. _

On the same time, Snape answered, "You are not a freak, Harry. It's not your fault they died."

Harry stopped breathing and felt his nose blocked by slime, so he started using his mouth to breathe. They finally reached the dungeon's door and Snape slid in, with Harry in his arms. He put Harry down on the sofa and went to the cabinet.

"I'll give you a calming potion. You can rest today."

Harry didn't answer, since he doesn't know what to say anymore. It is useless. Telling adults what he felt was useless. Nobody understands why he needs to die so much. Everybody always say the reverse. The thing is; he didn't want to live like this. If death is better, why not?

"Harry… do you want to talk about this?" Snape took a seat in front of him. Harry refused to answer and drunk the potion.

Snape sighed. The boy always refused to answer. And now he already burst twice in two month of the start of the school year. He knew the boy wouldn't last longer and eventually, Harry Potter will be broken beyond repair. He stared at the sad little thing in front of him. Harry's face was wet but emotionless. His robes were wet from tears and sweat. Yet the boy looked so old, older than his year. So frail, so thin.

So pitiful.

It was so out of character for him to act like this, but he is the head of the house. Moreover, it was Lily's boy who is asking for death in front of him. What kind of pain did the child have to have such mentality? Was it even worst than his childhood?

"Does your relative hit you?"

The boy flinched but didn't answer. Snape tried again.

"Harry, do you understand my question? It is not normal for a growing boy like you to be this skinny. Do they even feed you?"

Harry curled into a ball, closing his ears with both hands and knees tightly on his chest. He didn't hear anything, he wouldn't say anything…

Snape frowned. He then went to the cabinet and gave Harry a dreamless sleeping potion. Harry drank it as quick as he could; knowing what potion it was from being give it so many times in the infirmary and then surrendered to the darkness.

* * *

><p><em>Child… <em>

Harry opened his eyes. He was back to the infirmary, it seemed. Everything seemed white and sterile.

_After a lot of consideration, I know a faster way to regain my body. _

Harry felt frozen. Regain..? Does that mean Marvolo is going to leave him?

_No, idiot child. I will stay with you, but it is easier to act when we have separate body. I am strong enough to cast normal spell now, but I don't have physical body to grab my wand with. _

Can't Marvolo do the wandless spells? Or maybe, he can even use Harry's body. Harry didn't mind at all.

_It is plausible, but it won't be really stable. Your core and my core are different, even though they are similar. I will get burned if I used yours directly as a source of spell magic. _

Harry nodded, showing that he understood. Well, he couldn't ask anything, could he? Marvolo said he wanted to leave, so be it. Then he asked the professor of how he is planning to do it.

_Remember the third level corridor? _

There was nothing there, Harry thought.

_No there wasn't, but I think there would be something there right now. The Philosopher Stone. _

The… what? Harry asked again. He hasn't heard anything about it.

_Nicholas Flamel. _

Harry knows that name. He saw it in the chocolate frog card given to him anonymously last time. That reminded Harry of the owl incident.

_It can produce elixir of life—if I can get it, I can make my own body. Also, on the mean time, I want to go to the Forbidden Forrest. _

What for? Harry asked. The forbidden forest is forbidden for a reason, right? Oh, then he realized that maybe the dangerous things lurking behind the trees can give him death.

_Foolish child! I won't let you go inside the Forbidden Forrest with that kind of mentality! _

Harry stopped thinking. He realized one funny thing. Does Marvolo not want him to die? After all he said about killing Harry? Why? The voice inside his head stammered before answered.

_I.. I am just worried I will lose my temporary vessel—you. So just listen to me closely and I want you to be cautious. _

Harry nodded just when Madam Pomfrey entered the room. Harry smiled politely at her and thanked her for her care. The lady looked like she wanted to cry again, and Harry found himself engulfed in a hug.

Somehow, this time, the hug has lost its meaning. Harry didn't feel the need to sob, to cry, it was just some heat and pressure from the matron. His chest was hollow; no more pain. Harry didn't realize that a part of him has died that day.

* * *

><p>When he saw the door in third level corridor, Harry swished his wand and the door was unlocked. He opened the door, slowly and cautiously. What he saw was beyond imagination. There was a three headed dog in the size of a house, chained to a pole. It looked menacing and each of the three heads also stared at him.<p>

Harry grimaced and closed the door back. What was that? It wasn't there last time?

_I think it is a Cerberus. But it has engorgio charm in it, making it bigger than it actually is. _

Can't we make it smaller, then? Harry asked, watching as the door locked itself automatically.

_We can, but it will still be ferocious. Maybe we need to get her to come with us… _

Her? Harry's mind was searching for someone. Who is she?

_You will find out later. The Cerberus is guarding something. Did you see the panel door on the floor? Well, we can only do so much today. And this weekend is Halloween. We will do something then. Now, get us back to library. I will tell you some spells that might be useful for defence. _

Harry nodded and walked away from the corridor.

He didn't know that Snape was watching him from the shadow.

* * *

><p>Next: Forbidden Forrest, new DADA teacher, and philsopher stone.<p>

Review please? I really like them.


	4. Chapter 4

Thank you very much for the review! Especially raisuke143 for she/he has been reviewing since chapt 1. They really fuel me to post more. especially since this is a new fandom for me.

There are some problems with the publication of new chapters; I am sorry for spamming your inbox. FF dont allow me to access the story it seemed.

My beta is still busy planning a wedding, so please be patient. And she has been my beta for two years now, so I dont want to change.

By the way, I found it quite amusing that my story alert number is more than three times the number of the favourite. Why is it the case? Some more favourites or review would be nice as well~

This is a bit squashy with blood, so maybe you dont want to eat while reading.

Enjoy!

* * *

><p>When Harry returned to the class the day after, he was relieved to find that the daily gossip has moved away from him. The first Quidditch match of the year was going to be held the next day. It was Slytherin vs Gryffindor, and people were excited about it.<p>

Harry himself wasn't really interested in the game; for him it looked exhausting. He loves to watch other fly, though. He missed the first year flying lesson, so he didn't know what it feels to fly. Maybe one day he would be able to own a cheap broom for himself to fly with. Maybe he could even carve his name onto the broom, _Harry_.

He was dragged by Blaise to the arena, and he sat beside Blaise. Harry has no difficulties following the game with his agile eyes. He was told by Blaise that the game will be finished when snitch, a golden flying ball, was caught. Harry looked around the arena and spotted the golden ball straight away, hiding behind the Slytherin's flag pole. He pointed the ball to Blaise, which in turned, looked to the direction and gasped. They didn't know that the Gryffindor seeker who was randomly flying near them heard what Harry said. He didn't take any chance and went straight for the gold ball.

Slytherin was winning 50-10 when suddenly the Gryffindor seeker caught the snitch, bringing win to the lion house. People were shocked, because Gryffindor seeker was famous for his incompetence. Gryffindor, on the other hand, was enjoying the feeling because it was the first time in years they had win over cunning Slytherin.

Marcus Flint, the Slytherin's captain, was beyond pissed. He walked over to Oliver Wood, the Gryffindor's captain; ready to congratulate his rival while simultaneously preparing to curse the hell out of Wood. When they shook hand, Marcus smirked and silently hexed the lion captain so that Wood was blasted to his back for five meter or so. The unsuspecting boy flew back and landed on his head, fell into unconsciousness.

For a moment, there was only silent.

Then chaos erupted. Gryffindor shouted foul, while Slytherins smirked because they have no proof at all. They were ready to fight, one house shouting to the other. Ravenclaw and Huflepuff watched from the sideline, as usual. The usual fight was always as amusing as the Quidditch match itself. The fighting houses shouted foul to each other. Gryffindor shouting foul because Flint hexed their captain, while Slytherin shouted foul because the incompetent Gryffindor seeker definitely cheated.

The fifth year Gryffindor seeker sneered at his enemies, laughing hard when he heard the accusation.

"I win because Potter's help! Thanks, kiddo!"

Most of Slytherin house members froze. Harry paled. What did he do now? Blaise paled too, but he grabbed Harry's hand tightly and defended the boy.

"No, he didn't help you at all!"

"He did." The seeker smirked. "He pointed out where the snitch was, and I just catch it."

He regretted when he finished saying, because based on the rules of the game, catching snitch with the help of audience was considered as foul. Madame Hooch heard whet he said, and declared that the snitch was a foul. So the match ended up in 50-10, and Slytherin house won instead.

The snake house cheered for their victory, and for the first time since he entered school, Harry was hailed as an honourable member of their house. His small body was tossed around the students and they went back to the school compound. Behind them, Gryffindor were busy defending and persuading Madame Hooch about their winning. But the lady was firm to her decision and left the lion house to suffer their defeat in bitterness.

And most of the Gryffindor lower year students watched Harry Potter with fierce hatred.

* * *

><p>The next morning, Harry and Blaise walked to the great hall in great pleasure. The two of them woke up early and decided to leave to Great Hall together. Their dorm mates were still sleeping after last night. Last night his house were cheering and enjoying their winning; everybody was so happy that no one remembered his accident and they talked to him instead. They even cheered for Harry, and the boy felt accepted by the house for the first time. Blaise was smiling to him, congratulating him for being so agile in searching snitch. Marcus Flint even came to him and personally asked Harry whether he could fly. Harry answered honestly, he didn't know because he never had his flying lesson.<p>

In the end, the Slytherin's captain promised Harry a session of flying, maybe after Halloween, to determine whether Harry can be their new seeker. Harry flushed in happiness and embarrassment, because it was just so novel for him to be praised and given expectation. His flushed face and excitement made Harry looked so adorable. People started to notice him and Blaise felt a bit overprotective as he defended his seat beside Harry thought-out the party. Marvollo chuckled in his head, so all in all the whole night Harry was very happy.

He smiled and wished that breakfast will be as good as the night when suddenly three first years and five second year students blocked their path. Harry stiffened. All of them were Gryffindor. He recognized the first year boys include Ronald Weasley, Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan, but not the second years.

"Stop gloating, cheater." One of them sneered. Blaise growled.

"Move, or I'll hex you!"

"Oh, Little snakes know more dark curses than we are." One of the second year Gryffindor sneered. "No wonder Slytherin is the source of evil."

"Don't you dare!" Blaise shouted, but Ronald Weasley was faster than him. He was stunned, leaving Harry defenceless against the whole bullies. Harry didn't pay attention as he was busy worrying about Blaise when a stunner hit him on the back too.

* * *

><p>When he woke up, Harry felt stiff. The smell of earth and leaves were around him, but everything was dark. When he looked around, he was in the middle of a forest of somekind.<p>

Fear started to creep into his mind. Where was he?

_It's the Forbidden Forrest, Child. Those bastards dumped you here. This place is dangerous. _

Harry bit his lips. "It's fine, Marvolo. I don't think it's their fault. I always make people hate me anyway."

_Child, this is unacceptable. And to think they called themselves Gryffindor, the House of the Brave. Bravery to bully a small boy in groups. How disappointing. _

Harry didn't reply, instead he watched the bushes and dense trees around him. It felt like night time, even though Harry knew it was still noon. It was so dense that sunlight couldn't penetrate into the forest. And then he remembered something.

"Marvolo, didn't you want to find something in Forbidden Forrest? Since we are here anyway, why don't you tell me what to do?"

_Child, it is true that I asked you to visit Forbidden Forrest, but I was hoping I have prepared you, not like this. You are defenceless against all the creatures here and I cannot help you now, I am still too weak. _

"I don't mind," Harry answered. "You don't need to protect me, Marvolo. I don't want to be saved anyway. Why don't we do what you want since I am still alive? I will try my best to stay alive until you regain a new body soon."

Marvolo didn't answer. Harry sighed and started to walk. Then he realized that his ankle was broken. He wasn't sure why it was broken. Maybe he fell when the Gryffindor dumped him? Or maybe they did purposely break his ankle so he couldn't walk? Either way, Harry didn't really care. He was used to the pain and broken bones. He would just sit there and waited until it healed. Usually broken bones healed within hours anyway.

* * *

><p>Hours passed. Marvolo didn't talk to him anymore so Harry kept his silent as well. As time passed by, the forest became darker and darker. Sometimes something passed around him, among the bushes. Harry watched in serene. He was not a fool. He knew how dangerous his situation was, and truthfully, he couldn't bring himself to care.<p>

While waiting for his fate, Harry assessed the whole two days. After he was almost being a traitor to Slytherin, suddenly he brought glory to his house. And then his house praised him. But then it made the Gryffindor hated him, and now he was left alone to die in the forest. Just like one of the story Aunt Petunia told Dursley (which, again, Harry shamelessly eavesdropped. It got really lonely when he was alone and scared inside the small cupboard. He wished his mother was there for him just like how Aunt Petunia smothered over Dursley when he was afraid. Aunt Petunia's voice were so smooth and motherly when she told those stories. Unconsciously, Harry yearned for it too and extended his hearing through the wall) about Hansel and Gretchel.

Harry then wondered, maybe he just shouldn't be bothered by all of them. All his school mates are hard to please and hard to understand as well. Whatever Harry did, someone would get angry over it and hurt him. It was tiring, and frankly, after crying his worst the day before, Harry couldn't be bothered anymore.

Let them think what the wanted; it was fine if they hated him. it will be even better if they actually kill him. So he can die earlier. But he knew he couldn't ask them frankly to kill Harry. It was just a simple logic. His professor probed his mind and knew Harry wants to die. So he didn't let Harry die. Marvolo told him that he would kill Harry when the time comes, but so far he was still alive. So in conclusion, if Harry told other about his death wish, people would prevent him from dying.

_Foolish child!_

Harry jumped when he heard Marvolo spoke out to him. he had forgotten than Marvolo could listen whatever he was thinking inside his mind.

"…I am sorry." Harry apologized, knowing that all he could do was to ask for forgiveness. Marvolo inside his head sighed.

_Child, listen to me. You have the potential to be a great wizard, greater than any of the bastards inside Hogwarts could ever be. Don't you think it's a waste to die and let that magic potential you had disappeared?_

"Potential?" Harry asked. "What is that?"

_It means power, raw power, my Child. You have enormous, more than you think. You are destined to be a great man, Harry. Don't surrender to your emotions. Don't be weak. _

"Thank you for your concern, Marvolo. But I don't really find it as a reason to stay alive. I just want.. To leave this place, you see. I want to go to a place where people like me and they wouldn't bully me or hit me or ask me to do chores. I want to meet my parents. Aren't they supposed to love you? I think if I apologize sincerely to them, they would forgive me and let me live with them. I hope I don't ashamed them, though. I am still a freak after all."

_Child… Listen. Whoever your parents are doesn't matter. You are you. You live for yourself. You don't need to constantly asking for acknowledgement from other. You do everything for yourself. _

"But I don't need anything anymore. I don't want to stay alive. Nobody wants me to. So why should I?"

…_If that is the case, why don't you stay alive for me? I want you to stay alive. _

"… Aren't you promise to kill me when you get your body back?"

_It was my initial decision, but now, with your potential, I want to train and teach you magic so that you can be even greater. _

"If you wish." Harry sighed in defeat. "But I still don't want to live here."

_Then follow me. I will bring you someplace else when I get my body. _

"How are we going to get your body then?"

_I need you to find a unicorn… and suck their blood. Their blood consists of magic that can anchor me to the real physical world so that I can take over your body. Then I will take you to meet her. _

"Her? Who is 'she', Marvolo? And where are we going to find a unicorn?"

_You'll see her soon. She is a magnificent beauty, majestic and strong. You can find unicorns in this forest, but they only attracted to innocence and girls. I just finished healing your ankle, you should be able to walk properly now. _

Harry tried to stand. His ankle was healed, although it was still sore and tender. But he started to move along the bushes, looking around and around, trying to find a unicorn.

How does one find a unicorn anyway? Harry wondered as he passed some bushes. Then he noticed some sparkling fine thread around the bushes, which looked like a fine spider web. But upon closer look, it was bits of hairs, long silver strands.

Touching the silver thread, Harry found that the strands were pulsated with tense magic. It was warm and tingling, as if he was touching a small electric chord he used to play with (because he didn't have many toys to begin with, while the chord was quite nice and long and sometimes Harry could pretend that he got shocked when touching the chords). And suddenly the view in front of him changes, showing ripples of air, flowing like water. He passed through the line and looked around.

And then he saw a white horse lying on the ground, just a few meters in front of him. The white horse has silver strands of mane and tail, with a proud iron horn on its forehead. Harry was amazed from what he saw. The horse was clearly pregnant, and looked like she was in the last stages of her pregnancy. Her stomach was big and the muscle around it spasm in quick interval.

Harry didn't know that he just passed the barrier made by the mare. The silver hair strands were usually prepared by unicorn mare to give them a safe area to give birth. Usually the strands of hair grant them another dimension, so that no other creatures can come in, sans those who are purer than unicorns themselves. And true to this, Marvolo's existence in his mind was repressed until Harry couldn't feel or hear the professor's voice anymore, as long as he was inside the barrier.

The mare looked up and saw Harry. She started to panic; yet when Harry kneeled down in front of her and smiled, it seemed to understand that Harry wasn't there to hurt her. Magic has shown her blessings and let him came through the birthing barrier, so that's mean the human boy was an innocent soul and he was there to help her. Very rare for the current human race.

Harry went closer, slowly but surely, towards the mare. He wanted to lessen the pain, but he wasn't sure how to persuade the mare to let him. When he was in touching range, Harry signed to the horse, smiling gently and placed his hand on his own chest, crossing his palms together as if he was blessing his chest. The mare looked like understanding what he meant, so when Harry touched her stomach, she didn't response much aside from a bit of twitch.

Then Harry began to use his magic, slowly, to warm up the body. To massage the mare's stomach. It was a slow process, but eventually the water broke, and half an hour latter, two feet kicked out from the mare's body. Harry was amazed by the sight of blood and water, the smell of placenta as well as the beauty of birthing process.

Slowly the baby was born. Harry didn't touch the baby at all, unconsciously understanding that the mare wouldn't let him touch her precious baby and the baby needs it own strength to get out of its mother's body. Slowly, the body emerged, and a grey, mini unicorn with a small golden horn on its forehead was born.

The mare licked its child, cleaning it from all the messes. Harry saw the mess of blood and placenta around. He then remembered Marvolo was asking for unicorn blood, so he turned to the mare and asked.

"May I have the spilled birth blood? Marvolo wants it to get him his body back. Can I give it to him?"

The mare looked like thinking for a while before whining and moved, giving Harry more access to the spilled blood underneath her stomach and rear end. Harry smiled and tried to scoop the blood; alas his hands were too small. He didn't know how to collect the blood, and they dried very easily.

Then he did the only thing he could; he scooped the blood and placenta mixture as much as he could into his palms.

"Marvolo, how am I going to give you this?"

But there was no answer. He didn't know that Marvolo couldn't be inside the unicorn barrier. Harry started to panic, between not having answer and the quickly drying blood mixture. Out of his panic, he immediately put the mixture into his mouth, and drunk it all.

The taste was something Harry never wanted to have again. It was not unlike drinking his own blood, but plus something else that smelled and tasted like rotten fish.

He felt different straightaway. Harry could see his body was glowing and suddenly Marvolo was back into his head, his voice sounded stronger and Harry could feel his presence even better.

_Child… You are truly a miracle. _

What? Harry asked. He didn't understand. The mare was still licking its child in front of Harry, but her eyes were on Harry. Watching the weird boy closely. Marvolo continued to explain what happened.

_You actually get permission from a unicorn to get its blood. Do you know that in normal situation, the minute that blood touches your lips, you are cursed for eternity? I guess since you helped her and you were trying to help me, the blood didn't curse you. It gave you more energy instead. Especially with the mixture of new life liquid in it. _

Ah. Harry pretended he understand while he actually don't. He only caught the part that he was not in trouble. But is it a good thing for Marvolo?

_Yes, Child. You are brilliant. I can see myself now. You make me stronger and more real. I can even pass the unicorn barrier._

Good then. Harry smiled and turned back to the mare.

"Thank you so much."

Harry didn't expect the mare to lick his hand back, and letting him touches her child. Harry smiled and felt so good, patting both the mother and child slowly, gently, for hours until he fell asleep beside the mother and child. Before he surrendered into the darkness, he wondered for the first time, did his mother loves him like the mare did when Harry was born from her?

He would never know, sadly. And honestly Harry was scared to know; because usually the truth always disappoints him.

* * *

><p>When he woke up again, both the mare and the child were gone, leaving him alone in the middle of another part of the forest. Harry rubbed his eyes, feeling a bit disappointed from being abandoned. He bit his lips and realized it was already night. The forest was even darker than before.<p>

Then he started to feel a bit scared.

It was dark and he was alone. Well, he wasn't alone, but he didn't know what to do. So he tried to call Marvolo. No answer. Harry felt himself frozen with fear. Where did Marvolo go? Has he got his new body and left him alone? It was very possible, after all.

Harry bit his lower lips. He shouldn't blame Marvolo, after all he was just a broken boy, who wants him? Maybe someone else would remember him? And shouldn't someone be searching for him now? People should have noticed he was gone. He was the star of the quidditch party last night, so people should notice him gone… at least… right?

Or maybe they just didn't care. Harry smiled bitterly. Why did he always torture himself with disappointment after disappointment? Why did he keep having this wishful thinking that someone will care? Haven't he learned enough?

And he became ultra sensitive to the changes around him. A sound, a movement. Leaves and bushes around him frictioning against each other. The sounds of animals and wind. The movement of shadows. Slow movement underneath his feet. The biting cold.

He was scared.

And the worst part is he didn't know what to do. He wasn't sure what to do. He has always wished this, hasn't he? He would die, alone in darkness. But he never felt that afraid before. This was something beyond him; and his eleven years old mentality was crying inside him, wanting no more than a safe place with lights and warm bed.

Someone. He hoped someone would come and save him.

Someone.

Please.

Please.

"…Is anybody there?" Harry shouted, as loud as he could. "Help…?"

No answer.

Harry begun to desperate.

"Please? Someone?"

No answer.

"Marvolo?"

There were some voices around him. But nobody, nothing moves.

"Professor Snape?"

"…rry?" Suddenly some voice called out to him. Harry perked up.

"Yes! Yes! I am here, please! Yes!"

"Harry?" the voice was getting stronger and when Harry could see the billowing robes of his head of the house, Harry jumped into the man, grabbing it as close as he could.

"Harry, are you alright?"

Harry didn't answer and busy burying himself into Professor Snape's robes. Snape scooped up the child and realized Harry was shaking and his body was very cold. But the boy didn't cry or talk or shout. He seemed to be burying himself inside the silence.

Snape sighed. He was so worried about Lily's boy. After yesterday accident, he knew the stupid Gryffindors would retaliate, but he couldn't believe what Blaise Zabini reported to him. Apparently Blaise was left on the corridor, perfectly stunned while the other students levitated Harry together to someplace else. Blaise was rescued by some of the passing Ravenclaw fifth years; and then he reported everything to Snape.

Snape was beyond angry and demanded Dumbledore to do something about it; alas, Dumbelore thought it was just a harmless house rivalry and didn't pursue the matter. Snape sneered in disgust and disappointment over the old man he used to think as a father before leaving the headmaster office and went to find the boy-who-live-but-wished-to-die. Dumbledore just didn't understand that in this situation, Harry might choose to kill himself. And Snape has a really solid argument after he saw Harry tried to open the third level corridor. Snape knew it was not so much as Harry knew about the philsoper stone; as Harry was trying to find 'the painful death'. Luckily the boy has the common sense to lock the door back and went away.

When Harry didn't return by the dinner time, Snape couldn't control himself and he took Ronald Weasley with him. After performing legilimency (and interrogating the boy simultaneously), he found that they left Harry in the deeper outskirt of Forbidden Forrest. Snape then took two hundred points from Gryffindor and gave three weeks worth of detentions with Filch for the three first year and five second years. When confronted by Minerva McGonagall about it, Snape told her the truth. Thankfully she still had the sense to be ashamed and angry at her own lions, unlike Dumbledore.

He then went to the forest and trying to locate the boy without avail, until suddenly he heard the boy's voice calling for him. Luckily they met and now the boy is safe in his arms.

"Harry… sssh…are you alright? Are you hurt anywhere?"

Harry shook his head, but refusing to let go.

"Harry, it is fine now. Everything is fine. Let's go back."

"Sir… I am …. I am scared, sir."

"Sssh. I understand. I am here; you don't need to be scared anymore. Let's go back to the castle."

"Sir… can I go home?"

"Harry?"

"I don't want to stay here anymore. I don't want to be here, sir. I don't like the people here, sir. I don't understand their rules. What did I do wrong? I don't mind coming back to privet Drive, sir. At least I understand the rules there."

"Harry, calm down. I won't let them hurt you anymore. I promise."

"…Never promise, sir. Adults always give empty promises."

Snape didn't answer. He took the boy to the infirmary. But he was sure he needed to do something to show Harry that he was not one of the un-dependable 'adults' Harry always had. Madam Pomfrey treated the boy as Harry suffered from mild pneumonia. She mothered him the whole night, making Harry felt a bit awkward.

As he stared to the ceilings, he wondered where Marvolo went. Maybe he was already out there doing great things. Oh well, so much for a promise. Adult never hold their promises.

_Child, I am sorry. _

Harry froze. Marvolo was still inside him?

_I am still here, Harry. I was unable to control myself until a moment before. The shock of having a physical anchor from unicorn blood knocked me out from my consciousness. I am sorry for what you felt. Please believe me when I say I won't leave you alone, ever. _

Harry bit his lips, and the first tear started to leak. It was followed by some other silent tear, for Harry did have a heavy day and needed to unwind. He silently sobbed into the pillow. Really, it was hard. He had cried and cried and cried just in two months since he started coming. He had been in the Dursleys for years and never cried that much. He preferred Privet Drive than magic. He wanted to go back to the small cupboard. He wanted to stay in his cocoon.

He was only half listening to the professor inside his head. Marvolo soothed him, telling him great story, praising Harry and promising him that everything will be better soon. Yet Harry, in his broken heart, wondered how long 'soon' would take. Years? Decade? Never?

Soon.

* * *

><p>Harry is still a child, but he will grow harder. eventually. Alas, I am sorry for I cannot put in the Philsopher Stone or DADA professor. This forbidden forest scene blew out of proportion.<p>

Review?


	5. Chapter 5

My dear Beta is back. She already get through the first chapter, and half of the second. in other words, this chapter is not betaed.

Thank you for the reviews.

Enjoy!

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><p>Harry was released from the infirmary. Blaise welcomed him with open arms. Apparently the whole Harry fiasco has reached all student body, because the Gryffindors who kidnapped Harry were targeted as the main victim of Gryffindor upper year students' pranks (especially from the Weasley twin) and scorn. Both Ravenclaw and Huflepuff looked down on the lion house for their cowardly behaviour while the snakes' hatred towards the lions doubled up. For the next week, fights and hexing were many, especially when Slytherin met Gryffindor in the corridor.<p>

The next day was Halloween. The Feast was one of the bigger feasts in Hogwards. Harry sat beside Blaise in silent while others were chatting among themselves, appraising the wonderfully decorated room. Instead of enjoying himself like others, Harry was preparing his mind. Marvolo has told him that they needed to do something that night, and had asked Harry to slip some raw steaks into a stasis-ed box inside his robe.

When he saw the teacher's table, Harry could feel the stare from Professor Snape and the headmaster. Harry pretended he didn't know and hid behind his big robes. He wanted to curl and ran away. He didn't want to burden the professor anymore. Snape has done so much for him. Then the headmaster delivered his weird speech before the food magically appeared on the table. Harry was reminded of his urge to thank the house elves again and asked Marvolo whether they can go to the kitchen later. The professor agreed, but deciding that they will have more time in Christmas breaks.

Harry slowly pilled up the food into the box. It was a magically enhanced box that can be filled endlessly. Blaise noticed that Harry wasn't eating, and instead was packing some food into the box. Raw steaks and roast meat.

"Harry, why are you not eating?"

Harry stopped, caught red handed. He bit his lips and looked back to his only friend, eyes staring like a kicked puppy. Blaise was taken aback, suddenly feeling a rush of protectiveness over the most adorable thing. He shook his head.

"No, you need to eat before you packed them, Harry. Come, eat this roast potato, it is very good."

Harry nodded and stabbed the potato with his fork, slowly eating. Some other students around them sneered at the way Harry stabbed his potato. So pleibeian. But they held their tongue because Harry is the current symbol of Gryffindor's cowardliness, and so should be treasured by Slytherins.

Suddenly the happy gushes in the Great Hall turned silent when one girl from Hufflepuff shrieked like she met a banshee. The next second, her body was gone and instead she became a badger. She was the first one, followed by many that night. One by one, people from different houses changed into their House animal, Hufflepuff the bager, Ravenclaw the raven, and Gryfindor the lion. However, Slytherin, instead of becoming a snake, turned into earthworms.

Chaos erupted, and the professors were all busy trying to make sense of the situation. Harry, however, was one of students who weren't changed. Blaise was another one, and the boy was panicking because suddenly his other friend Draco Malfoy turned to a yellow flobberworm.

_Harry, this is an unexpected opportunity to slip out. Do it quietly. I want you to meet someone. _

Harry nodded and using his usual silent gait, he slipped out from the Great Hall easily. His steps were careful and silent; his body crunched to make him as small and as unnoticeable as possible. Marvolo guided him to a toilet in level two girl's toilet.

Harry peered down to the sink and saw a small snake was curling around one of the faucet.

_Now, I need you to surrender your body to me so that we can open this chamber… Let me, child… I need to speak to the snake. I am strong enough, from the unicorn blood's power. I need to speak to the sssnake…_

What? Harry asked. I can help you with that.

_Silly child… you cannot speak to snake. _

Harry was silenced. Well, maybe Marvolo is right. So he let the professor take control of his mind, just that minute; and his mouth spoke out,

_Opensssss… Elevator…. _

Harry wasn't sure what happened next, because the sink suddenly opened up and a deep tunnel formed within it. Marvolo asked him to jump in, so he did. Harry noticed that Marvolo became tired, after taking control of his mind for just a minute. The boy felt guilty and swore that he would do the next speaking thing to snake if possible, so that Marvolo wouldn't be forced to take control of Harry and exhausted himself.

They flew in and the sink immediately returned to initial state. Harry wondered where they were going, as he was levitated through the tunnel, up in the air, touching nothing. The tunnel was very dark and smelled bad, so harry knew it was dirty. Maybe Marvolo wants him to clean up?

_Silly boy. Of course not. I am taking you here to meet my lady. _

Oh. Harry nodded. When they finally stopped, Harry felt he was gently put on the floor on his two feet. In front of him was a huge door with a statue of a man standing in front of it.

_This is Salazar Slytherin, my ancestor. _

Harry nodded, but in awe. Wonderful, that is. Marvolo was such a strong and wonderful professor. He even descended back from Salazar Slytherin himself! He then heard a chuckle inside his head, courtesy to Marvolo.

_Thank you, child. But I need to take control again, so that I can open the door. _

"Let me", Harry whispered. "I think I can do it."

_You cant speak to snake, child. _

"What should I say?"

_Child, don't be ridiculous. Let me. _

"No, Marvolo. You are tired. I can do it."

_Fine, if you failed, you need to give me control. You don't even know what you are listening to. Say, 'O the Greatest of Four Founders, Grant me your power of the chamber."_

Harry said the exact thing, and little did he know, he was speaking in Parseltongue. The door immediately opened and Harry was welcomed with the sight of a hall even greater than Great Hall, with torches illuminating lights all around him, marble floors (albeit a bit dirty) and elegant pillars with the shape of snake's heads on either side of the hall. The ceilings were decorated with stalactite and stalagmite, with greenish crystal fog accumulated on the centre of it. Harry also noted that there was a small door on the other end of the room.

_You… You speak Parseltongue! _

Harry shook his head. He didn't understand what that was. All he knew he was speaking perfect English.

_But you can open the room, Child. You can speak to snakes, can't you?_

Well, Harry did talk to some snakes at the back garden of Prive Drive some years back, when he was doing his chores tending the garden. But it wasn't a big deal, was it? Or it was? So he has another thing to distinguish him as a 'freak' amongst 'freaks'?

_Silly child. Hush for now. This ability is a blessing. Only those with pure bloodline from Salazar himself have this ability. That means you are a descendant as well. You and I are the only two people capable of this language in Britain._

So… he wasn't a freak, right? Because Marvolo has the same ability and Marvolo is definitely not a freak. Harry relaxed, just in time when suddenly a huge, fifty feet snake came to him, slithering on the smooth marbles. Its eyes were yellow and striking, and when it looked at him, Harry felt a bit of pressure pushing into his mind. Just like the probing done by Professor Snape and the Sorting Hat. But it came as fast as it went.

_:Tom? Is that you?:_

Harry coiled in fear, but Marvolo assured him that he would be alright. He ensured Harry that the eyes wouldn't kill them because they are parseltongues. They both can speak anyway, and so he ordered Harry to greet the snake, telling him about himself and the Marvolo that currently resided inside his head.

_:It's been so long and now I meet two speakers! So what can I do for you? Anyone you want me to kill or eat?: _

_No_, Marvolo answered through Harry, _I just want to introduce you to this child, my vessel for now. Child, this is Annana, Slytherin's familiar Basilisk. Annana, this is Harry Potter, a Parseltongue. _

_:Is he Slythern's child too?: _

_I am still unsure, but from his ability, I'd wager it is the case. _

Marvolo and Annana kept talking using Harry as the medium. Harry didn't pay much attention to the conversation, letting his mouth parroting whatever Marvolo was saying. He also gave his pre-packed meat to the serpent. Annana was delighted and enjoyed her food in gusto. But then she complained that the roast meat bits were poisoned with weird concoction. Marvolo then explained maybe that was how the prank for the entire Hogwarts students was achieved.

Harry started to relax and he unconsciously touched the huge serpent's skins. The scales were hard and strong, black and greenish in colour making it looked like unbreakable armour. It looked very dangerous. Deadly. The serpent can easily kill him. Harry was amused by the trail of thought, and he stopped mediating the talk between Marvolo and Annana. He unconsciously snuggled to the serpent's cold body instead.

It felt good, despite the hard scales, to curl up around the long, coiled serpent body. He rubbed his cheek on the scales. True, it was hard and cold, but when they coiled around him, Harry felt as if he was protected. As if he was safe. Yet it also felt very dangerous. He would be crushed if the serpent decided to do so. And Harry, being Harry, didn't care so much about the deadly threat. Then he heard Marvolo chuckled.

_Why am I not surprised that you feel safe inside the deadliest serpent in the world's coil? _

Harry smiled. The question felt like affection. Annana also flicked her tongue onto Harry's face, as if trying to soothe him. Enjoying the act, Harry closed his eyes and let his tiredness take his consciousness away.

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><p>Serverus Snape was frantically trying to locate the one boy who was missing. After the whole turning-into-animal chaos, teachers finally able to return everyone back to human form. After counting each of them, the Feast officially ended and everybody went away to their dorms. However, there was one boy missing. And of course, it was none other than Harry Potter.<p>

Snape panicked, but he didn't let it shown. The Slytherin House were the worst, since they turned into flobberworm/earthworm, so they were more prone to being squashed or lost. but eventually he managed to collect all his students. The other teachers were already investigating who was responsible for the dangerous prank. And all eyes went to the Weasley twins, who were grinning among themselves on the Gryffindor table.

Snape didn't have time to berate the menacing twins; he was busy looking around place to find Harry. He even tried accio, but Harry wasn't in the hall anymore. With panic, Snape went to the third corridor. When he couldn't find Harry there, he was a bit relieved, but just a bit. He almost get bitten by the atrocious animal though.

He then looked around, up and down the castle. Harry was nowhere to be found.

His panic level rise exponentially as the time passed. He returned to the dorm to find that Harry hasn't returned as yet. He asked Blaise Zabini to inform him if Harry returned, and then continue searching.

He was totally, utterly, perfectly shock when he found the boy curled up on the floor in front of his quarter's door. The boy snored lightly, like he was in deep, deep sleep. The floor was dirty, cold and uncomfortable, but the boy looked at ease. It pained Snape to think maybe Harry was used to the coldness of the floor.

He slowly took the boy from the floor, carrying him in. He noticed again and again, everytime he carried the boy, he felt too light to be an eleven years old. Then he realized the lack of glasses as well as the poor condition of the boy's clothing.

Maybe he could bring Harry for a necessity shopping soon.

After he placed Harry on a conjured bed in his own master bedroom, Snape went to prepare for his next classes. He did it in his bedroom, occasionally watching the sleeping boy's thin chest went up and down, slowly but still breathing.

He hoped Harry wouldn't turn out like him. Or the Dark Lord.

He was such a sweet boy.

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><p>"Harry, please stay behind."<p>

The boy stopped packing his books and stared back at the headmaster who was teaching as the substitute DADA professor. Other students went away, but some Gryfindor boys sneered, feeling jealousy over the attention given to the Boy-Who-Lived by their idol, Albus Dumbledore, the leader of the light.

Albus watched as the small boy nodded, slowly packing his books back into the bag, and walked slowly to the teacher's desk. The bag on his body was almost as big as the boy himself. He was truly too small for an eleven years old boy. The skinny, petite boy walked like shadow, with no sound and grace born from the habit of wanting to stay unnoticed by other.

"Yes, headmaster?"

"Harry, my child, you can call me Albus."

The boy's eyes shone like two green emeralds. Albus was tempted to do a bit of legilimency, but well, his consciousness reminded him of how he was the cause of Harry's suffering, and thus, he should give the boy at least some privacy he deserved.

He waited, but apparently Harry was waiting for him too. So he spoke.

"Harry, I have a report from Professor Snape about you."

The boy blinked before letting his gaze down onto the floor. Albus was expecting more emotion, maybe sadness, scowl or rage; yet he was disappointed with the lack of response.

"Harry… do you want to share your problem with me? Maybe I can help you. I really care for you like my own grandson."

Harry didn't look up. He knew this type of adult. His old headmistress was one. She acted like she cares, but when Harry told her the truth that he didn't know why his teacher's hair turned blue, she became hostile and started to call him a 'little liar'.

"… I am fine, sir."

Albus sighed. The little boy didn't look like giving up soon. So he opted from another angle, trying to bring out more positive emotions. "So, please sit down and tell me how your school life is so far. Just to indulge an old man's wish? I am interested in your life, Harry."

Harry naturally sat on the floor beside the desk. But he won't look at the headmaster's eyes. He felt a really gentle bit of probing earlier, and although it stopped rather quickly, Harry realized that the headmaster was also trying to get into his head. He didn't like it, and Marvolo has told Harry to never disclose the professor inside his head to anyone. So he would protect Marvolo.

"It is fine, sir."

"I heard that you are a very hardworking student, Harry. Maybe lacking in the practical bit, but I am sure you will be fine after a bit of practice. Do you need help with that?"

"No, sir. Thank you, sir."

Albus' eyes stopped twinkling. It was harder than he thought, to bring out the child's response. Serverus did mention it, but Albus put it aside, believing in his rather wonderful grandfather-like charm. Maybe he could ask a more personal question.

"How is the Slytherin House, Harry? Do you have many friends? I know that Slytherin students, although a bit… _cold_, are quite accepting?"

"It is fine, sir, thank you."

"… How about friends? Care to name your best friend so far?"

Harry stopped thinking. He could answer that without thinking. "Blaise, sir. Blaise Zabini."

"Oh, he is a wonderful choice, my child." Albus smiled. Zabinis are a neutral family, even if they are descendent from dark creature succubus. At least they are better than Draco Malfoy. "So, what is your hobby? What do you do together with Zabini, Harry?"

"…I eat with him, sir. I share my classes with him."

"Good, good." Albus nodded. "Well, any other friend you might want to tell me? Maybe some other friends from other houses? Huflepuff and Gryffindor, for example. They are good bunch of kids."

Harry cringed. Gryffindor was his main bully, while Huflepuff was the main gossiper behind his back. He didn't like other first year students from those houses. "…No, sir."

"Oh, maybe you need to open your wing, young man. Friendship is always wonderful with the _right, good_ people. How about Ronald Weasley? I know the family well and they are really good and from the Light."

The comment was aimed to manipulate Harry into thinking of further making friends amongst Light families, instead of burying his head in the Slytherin house. He was aiming to be a grandfatherly figure that Harry absolutely can trust by promoting goodness. But little did Albus know that his comment make Harry's distrust of him increased. For Harry, a person who thought that they know the best solution to everything without actually assessing the situation is the worst hypocrite. And Professor Dumbledore has taken the crown.

_Don't listen to him, Child. He is the one who send you to the filthy Dursley when you were one year old. _

Marvolo's voice inside his head froze Harry. Was that the truth? Why?

"Harry?" Albus asked again, realizing that Harry wasn't paying attention to him. "Are you still listening to me?"

Harry asked Marvolo inside his head once again. Was that the truth? Then why?

_He is a big manipulative liar, Harry. He is the reason you suffer in Dursley's care for years. Not to mention how his attention brought you more bullies. _

Harry couldn't find fault in that. Marvolo was right. But still, he needed to ask the headmaster his side of the story. Because the old man said he cared for Harry like a grandson. So there should be some reasons why Dumbledore left him with the Dursley without checking him or doing anything.

"Professor… Are you really the one who left me with the Dursley when I was one year old?"

The question froze Albus. What? How did the boy know?

"Well, it was true that I suggested you to be subjected under their care…"

"Why, sir?" The boy suddenly looked up, his emerald eyes staring right at the headmaster, as if they were hurt. "Why did you do that? Why?"

"I… Well, I did suggest you to stay there, because they are your last family, Harry. You need to stay with your family."

"Why is 'family' so important?" Harry asked again, this time with real interest. He was trying to get some reason why people hate him and maybe he could do something about it. "If I am magical, wouldn't it be better if I stay with a magical family?"

"Harry, Harry. It is not good to think that we are better than the non-magical counterparts. They are as amazing as you and I, and I believe your family has provided you with excellent care? I know for sure they give you clothes and food, right?"

For the first time in his life, Harry felt anger rising in his chest. 'Excellent care' his arse. He did give the Dursleys 'excellent care' as a slave in the Privet Drive. Clothes and food his arse. The clothing wasn't even wearable sometimes and he was usually fed scraps and leftover. The memory of himself, digging the kitchen trash can at night trying to find a bit of leftover was still freshly imprinted in his head.

His mind started to think in another direction, and instead of hopelessness he usually had or the need to curl up and die, Harry felt anger and rage instead. Maybe because he had enough. Maybe because his heart was already very hollow. Or maybe because the headmaster's talk and act were so irritating.

"But sir, when I asked… when I saw other family, I realize that they don't actually asked their children to wash, cook, do the laundry, do the garden, clean the house, scrub the bathroom every single day, sir. Their parents don't kick or whip them with belt if the food is not ready by 6.30 in the morning, sir. They got to use the toilet, not the backyard grass. Also, they all have nice clothes and good, new shoes, sir. They can eat everyday without working first and they get pocket money. They even get Birthday parties and presents, sir. If that is what family for, then why don't I get all that?"

"Harry…"

"I am sick and tired of adults telling me lies, sir. Professor Snape said I don't deserve it, the hat said I deserve a better life, Hagrid told me that I will be better in Hogwarts. But all I get till now is that there is no different. I am still the freak; I am still bullied. I am still the poorest kid in class. I get jinxed and slapped and kicked and my books were stolen. I get a cursed letter and I was laughed by the whole school. I was kidnapped and dropped in the Forbidden Forrest. And nobody went looking for me, except Professor Snape. How is it fair, sir?"

Albus blinked. He was shocked, really. He never realized that Harry was being bullied like that. If that was the case, then it will be hard to instil love for wizarding world into the boy. Then it will be hard to persuade Harry to sacrifice himself in the future. This was bad.

"And you sir, you are the one who left me in front of the Dursley. Why don't you visit me, in the last nine years? If you really care, then why don't you visit just once? I never remember you in my life, professor. If you think of me as your grandson, why am I not with you, for the last nine years? So please don't lie like this. This is shameless of you, you see. Even a boy like me understand that much."

Albus was ashamed; his red face was hidden underneath the white hairs on his face. The boy's accusation strike right to home.

"Harry…"

"Tell me why, sir. Or at least please don't call me again because everytime you did this, calling me and giving me into the spotlight of attention, people get jealous and I get bullied more. I have Professor Snape as the head of my house, so you don't need to worry, sir. He is very kind to me."

Silent fell between them. Albus was ashamed and raged. He was itching to use legilimency and compulsion mind magic to make Harry change his perception. It was quite the truth, but not the way Albus wanted. The boy should have been thankful that he gave more attention to him. Harry should feel special and preferred by him. He should love the wizarding world based on the ill treatment of the muggles in his past.

But Albus knew that acting rash is not good; he has time afterall, to slowly changed Harry's warped view of the wizarding world and himself. So instead, he focused on the other thing that Harry mentioned: Snape.

"I am very gravely sorry for this, my child. I regret everything so much. If I have had known before… I trust that your family will provide better care… and I left you there because the family ward gives you the best protection, Harry. Please remember that after Voldemort's gone, his followers were enraged and tried to kill you for revenge of their master… But if you want to talk more about this, you may ask Professor Snape, dear child."

Harry shook his head in disbelieve. His anger has changed into impatience and the need to run away from the bullshit uttered from the headmaster's mouth. It was the longest time Harry has every spoken in his life, and now this adult was saying that basically, he was just a child with a wrong conclusion. The headmaster even told him to check his lies with Professor Snape! It was just not making any sense. It was infuriating. He was right thinking that adult couldn't be trusted (except Marvolo, of course) and everybody is out there to hurt him. There was no reason. They were just there to hurt him.

"That's also another lie I don't get. Do you all actually held a meeting and made up that lie with everyone? Because I know the truth, sir. My parent died from drunk driving. I don't understand why you all wanted me to believe they were killed? Isn't it even crueller, to said they were killed instead of died out of an accident? What is wrong with you people? Why everybody wants to hurt me so much? Is it that much _fun_?"

With that, Harry promptly left the room, leaving the headmaster sat and contemplated in silence.

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><p>Marvolo expressed his worry and also amusement that the first person Harry snapped on was Dumbledore. Harry blushed in shame, but the professor told him that it was rational for Harry to be angry. It was actually better than the usual Harry who always blames himself. But Harry was too ashamed to acknowledging it, and didn't want to argue further.<p>

Christmas break came near. Every single child was busy planning their holiday, leaving Harry alone I his thought. He didn't think that Christmas was all that enjoyable, for the only Christmas present he ever got from Dursley was a hanger and another set of Duddley's cast offs. He listened, though, and found the stories of Christmas with tree and dinner matched what Dursley had. It made him wonder why the 'freaks' and 'normal' all celebrated Christmas in the same way. Are 'freaks' Christian as well?

Marvollo hissed in anger, telling him that muggles has corrupted the way wizarding world thinks. Because of the muggle's influence, the wizarding traditions started to disappear.

Another thing was about the returning home. Harry put his name down on the list people who will stay at Hogwarts for Christmas. Professor Snape asked him why, and Harry replied his uncle gave him the ultimatum the day before September first that Harry will only be welcomed back to the house in Summer break. Snape looked pensive and accepted the answer.

He didn't know that Harry wasn't telling the whole truth. Marvolo urged Harry to stay as well. He has lots of reasons: to help Harry find the kitchen, to get Harry down and get used to Annana, to prepare Harry for pagan rituals in Christmas, making the best out of magic. Also, Marvolo wanted him to go back to the chamber to read books. Apparently there was a library down there, owned by Salazar Slytherin himself.

But Harry suspected it wasn't the whole reasoning. Marvolo seemed to hate his relatives so much and scowled at Harry whenever the boy wanting to go back to the place.

So he stayed, and he was the only Slytherin first year who stayed. There were two other students from fifth and seventh year respectively and a couple from other houses as well. The day the train took the majority of students away, Harry let out a huge sigh.

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><p>Please remember, Harry believes the lie that his parents went drunk driving. Or maybe, he preferred it.<p>

Review?


	6. Chapter 6

Unbetaed.

Might not be able to update as fast as current speed. Have lots of ideas but RL demands essays, not fanfic.

So many mistakes: Lost words, bad grammar etc. that's why I reposted this me. Pardon me.

Enjoy!

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><p>Kitchen was amazing. Harry found the house elves and their extreme enthusiasm. Harry felt like he found his kin. They all worked hard and love to serve. It felt like whatever Harry used to do. He tried to help, offering his cooking skill or cleaning skill; but the elves looked at him in horror and cried. So he stopped asking and instead engaging them in chatters.<p>

From them, Harry found a lot of new stuff: from the better way to clean dirty room to how to get the stain gone. Of course, the majority of their conversations were about food recipe and preparing tips. The elves were more than happy to answer him and he was even happier to eat whatever they provided. They even fetched Hedwig for Harry and let the owl stayed by Harry's shoulder while enjoying elf-made owl treats. All in all, Harry felt like he was in a world he always dreaming about: to be accepted. His mentality was, sadly, still those of servants.

Marvolo didn't like it, but he endured it because Harry was so happy. Also, sometimes, the elves would teach Harry a bit of magic, like how to instantly banished liquid and poured it in another container, how to move quick and fast, how to make themselves invisible. Harry enjoyed it so much that he didn't realize he was gaining ally as well as lost old magic preserved only by those elves.

Visit to the kitchen became a reward for Harry. Marvolo then used it to encourage the boy to study. Harry had gone back into the Chamber and found that the library books were all written in Gaelic, old English, or Parseltongue. Marvolo taught him a complex translation spell; Harry managed to master it two days afterward and he started reading.

The books were heavy in content. Harry had almost given up trying to understand it. Marvolo then changed his tactic and let Harry start from the legends book. He told Harry that legends were always partially true; and he showed Harry many examples of that. Then, if Harry managed to finish his reading for the day, Marvolo allowed him to go to the kitchen and played with the elves.

Annana came into the picture as a huge giant library protector and a sofa. Harry loves to curl inside her coils, while reading whatever Marvolo was asking him to do. The serpent loves the attention as well, as she never failed to flicker her tongue over Harry's head whenever she became Harry's sofa.

But no, Christmas wasn't all about studying. A week before Christmas day, Professor Snape approached Harry and took him to Hogsmeade to get some shopping done. Under the pretext that he needed to buy Potion Ingredients and Harry Potter was just taken to help him carrying bags; Snape bought Harry five sets of everyday clothes, some underwear and socks, and two horse skin boots. Snape wanted to get Harry a snake skin boots, but the boy adamantly refused to wear anything that is taken from snakes. Even with the horse skin boots, Harry was quite reluctant, and asked Snape whether he could get muggle plastic boots instead.

Harry didn't have much money with him, so he let Snape paid first. But he promised to return the money to his professor, before Snape snapped and barked at him, citing that 'I am not that poor to take money from an orphaned boy, moreover, a _Potter_." It was said in such a degrading tone that Harry guessed the reason Professor Snape hated him might be because of his name. Why Professor Snape hated Potter name so much?

It was another mystery he needed to find out.

On the other hand, he could secure a small package of assorted sweets for Blaise's Christmas present. Harry was so excited, because it was his first time buying gift for someone. He had never had any money or someone to give the gift to. Now he has quite a list: Blaise, Professor Snape, Annana, the elves and Marvolo. When he asked Marvolo what he wanted, the professor inside his head chuckled and commanded Harry to spend more time I the chamber to study. Harry felt a bit down as he didn't really like to study the harder books, especially those written in Gaelic.

Since he already spent his money for Blaise's present, Harry opted for a handmade gift for Snape. He went to the outskirt of the Forbidden Forrest (much to Marvolo's displeasure) and collected as many potion ingredients he could find. Of course, the only special thing he could find was a small moonstone, but Harry was happy enough to be able to collect that moonstone, two huge containers of various mushroom and some rainbow mosses. Harry was so sure that his gift for the Professor would be very much appreciated, because the Professor seemed to love potion so much.

For Annana, Harry actually asked the elves to roast ten turkeys on Christmas day. Then Harry would shrink them and went to the chamber to give her. And for the elves, Harry gives them a flower for each one, wild flowers that he collected when he was finding Professor Snape's present.

So all in all, Harry was so excited about Christmas. The silent condition of the castle also helped, because Harry felt more at ease with nobody around him all the time.

* * *

><p>When he opened his eyes on Christmas morning, he was amazed to find he got some presents as well. Harry didn't expect anything, because he was used to receive nothing that can be considered as gift even in his birthday. So he was overjoyed with all the presents. He got four presents: One from Blaise, one from Professor Snape (!), one from the house elves and one from the headmaster. Harry was frozen when he read the names, because he wasn't sure why on hell the headmaster wanted to send him a gift.<p>

He opted to open Blaise's first, and he found the most wonderful black robes that was made from special silk. Marvolo told him that it is acromantula silk, and it is an expensive stuff. Harry felt bad because he only gave Blaise sweets; so he promised himself to get Blaise better present next year. He tried it straightaway, and the robes fit him perfectly as if Blaise knew all his measurement. When Marvolo heard Harry's train of thought, the professor acidly stated that the pureblood boy was nosing too much with _his_ Harry. Harry didn't really get it why Marvolo was angry, but nevertheless, he was so thankful.

Next, he opened Professor Snape's present and got a book on Advance potion level 1. Harry was amused and started to open the book. Inside the book was many interesting simple potions and elixirs, including voice-changing potion, pepper-up potion, or simply making some sweet drinks that is well liked by children (which, Harry noticed, was actually some kind of nutrition potion for children who always fussy about their food). Harry would thank him latter.

He opened the gift from the House elves. It was a small porcelain cup with his name on it, Harree Pottery. It was spelled wrongly, but that was how the elves always called him, so Harry knew it was definitely his name. He grinned and put the cup on top of his desk, making sure that it was safe beside the chocolate frog Blaise first gave him.

And last, he opened the package. It was only covered by a simple brown paper, and it has a black, shimmering cloak in it. Harry read the letter, and it was in Headmaster's cursive writings:

_Dear Harry, _

_I want to sincerely apologize for our conversation last time. This is a gift for you. Your father placed it with me before he died, so I passed it on to you. Use it wisely. _

_Albus Dumbledore, _

_Headmaster of Hogwarts,_

_Supreme Mugwump_

_Head of ICW_

Harry tried on the cloak and found the most wonderful thing: he actually became invisible! It's like using the invisibility spell the elves thought him, but Harry doesn't need to cast a spell! That was a very wonderful gift!

Then Marvolo pointed out that the cloak had been Harry's father's cloack. Dumbledore has no right to say that it was a gift from the old goat. Marvolo even went further and accused the headmaster as a thief. Harry cowed from that, but he could see how Marvolo got into the conclusion. In the end, Marvolo urged Harry to ask Snape and go to Gringotts again. Who knows how much money and artefacts the old goat has been leeching from Harry's fault.

Harry argued that Dumbledore doesn't have access to his fault. But Marvolo reminded him, from the way Hagrid got Harry's vault card, which meant Harry's fault is under someone's control. And Hagrid translated easily to Dumbledore. So no genius reasoning there.

In the end, Harry went to the Great Hall and saw Professor Snape was standing in front of the Great Hall's gate, as if he was waiting for someone. Harry came nearer and greeted the professor, thanking him for the book. He swore he saw Professor Snape smiled; but the smile vanished so fast Harry thought he was just imagining things. The professor has been waiting for Harry and asked the boy to come to his quarter after breakfast.

Breakfast passed on peacefully. The hall was occupied only by teachers and a handful of students, so the conversation was simple and more homely. Harry kept catching glances from the Headmaster, as if the headmaster wanted Harry to say something. Thank you, maybe? Marvolo scowled at that and forbid Harry from saying anything.

He followed Professor Snape afterwards, and was ushered to the Potion Master's private lab. There, he was asked to sit down on one of the stools.

Snape cleared his throat, as if he was preparing to give a speech.

"I… Ah, Thank you."

Harry waited for more, but nothing came. The boy tilted his head. "..For what, sir?"

"For the present." Snape looked away in embarrassment. It was mortifying to say thank you, especially to James Potter's son with Lily's eyes.

'Thank you for the present as well, Professor. You had been helping me all this time, I am grateful." Harry smiled sincerely. The professor looked mellowed a bit and then he asked Harry where he bought the moonstone.

Harry told him that he didn't buy it; he found it in the outskirt of the forest. Snape looked shocked at his revelation. The Potion Master knew that although there are some moonstones of first grade (like the one Harry gave him) in the forest; those moonstones are guarded fiercely by the centaurs because of their divination prowess. He couldn't believe that such moonstone can be found scattered around the outskirt of the forest. The mushroom and mosses are abundant enough, but a hassle to collect; thus Harry actually saved him up lots of time.

And then he realized that Harry went to the forest again. This time, he was quick to temper. He started berating the child on the danger of being alone in the forest. He called the boy and idiot and stubborn for never listened to rules and adult's orders. Harry bit his lips and received the harsh words in silence. He is used with the anger and verbal abuse anyway. The professor went for another ten minutes before he caught himself and apologized to Harry for his sudden burst.

The boy was silent. Snape suddenly felt so bad that he had scold the child. The child only has the best intention, yet Snape was angry with him. So he soothed the boy and asked him to come back tomorrow to Snape's office with the Advance Potion Level one book with him.

Harry agreed and went out. His good mood was lessened considerably, but nevertheless, he understood that the Professor didn't want Harry to die. To improve his mood, Harry ran to the kitchen and presented each of the elves (hundred and twenty of them) the wild flower he plucked and kept fresh with stasis charm Marvolo taught him.

The elves were crying and thanking Harry for the simple present. Apparently it was rare for them to receive gifts from human master. And so they urged Harry to stay and filled himself with many, many treacle tarts, Harry's favourite.

Excusing himself after an hour or so, Harry asked for the roast meat and went away to the girl's toilet on second floor. He was surprised to see a girl ghost standing in front of the sink. It was a girl, pudgy with glasses. And she looks way younger than other ghosts in the castle. She looked at him in suspicion.

"Who are you?" She asked.

"I…" Harry wanted to answer, but she shrieked before he could continue.

"A Slytherin! In my toilet! Oh, how awful!"

And then, she just left the toilet and disappeared through the wall. Harry asked Marvolo what just happened, and Marvolo dismissed it as Harry's imagination. They continued to the chamber, and Harry's good mood returned when Annana thanked him for the roast turkeys.

He spent the whole afternoon reading on top of Annana's coils, while the serpent slept after the good meal. Marvolo started to teach him basic dark spells. He was honestly amazed at Harry's adaptability with magic. So far, Harry has shown his wandless ability for light magic and silent casting some basic dark magic. Harry loved the practical more than the theory anyway, and he spent the entire time transfiguring some rocks into little Golems, and made the Golems danced around him and Annana.

Marvolo watched the childish side of Harry in amusement. Sometimes, he realized that behind the heavy sad wish to die, Harry Potter was just a lonely eleven years old who wanted no more than someone to care and play with. And the little Golems around them showed how strong Harry's power was and what a remarkable control over his magic the boy has. Pity that all the blessed magical children needed to endure hardness in their childhood just because they were too strong. Harry was just like him.

People hated something that they can't explain. People feared something stronger than them. They retaliated in violence and abuse. Magical orphan are always the weakest victims to blame.

Marvolo promised to make them all pay. Who hurts Harry also hurts him.

* * *

><p>The next day, Harry found himself inside Professor Snape's private lab having to brew one of the concotion of his choice from the book. Harry chose the one which looked most interesting; a concoction that would produce any taste depends on the drinker's favourite beverage. Snape didn't argue and started to assist Harry in making it.<p>

Harry felt a bit uptight, as he thought Professor Snape was still mad at him. But the professor said nothing, just slowly guiding him through the process. His cauldron already smelled like chocolate, despite being chalk whitish in colour.

"What do you smell?" Snape suddenly asked.

"Ch..Chocolate, sir."

Snape smiled. Harry was frozen. His teacher never smiled. It felt weird. Snape put his hand on Harry's shoulder.

"This concoction is done. You can enjoy it now."

Harry blinked. That was actually quick and informative. He felt like he learnt so much stuff in one day, as Snape slowly explained every single step. He then bottled them into six vials, and put them on top of the table. Snape went back to his brewing, but then he realized the small boy was waiting for his next order. Snape's chest stung, realizing how Harry was trained to always serve and listen to a master. He really should kill those relatives of his. Snape growled.

"You can have them, Harry. You did it a good job for yourself."

Harry blushed, feeling elevated. The Potion Master just praised him! It was a novel thing, and as good as he could get.

"Thank you, sir."

"Do you want to enjoy it here? You can bring them to your dorm and enjoyed there. Either way is fine with me."

"I…" Harry shook his head. He took one of the vials and stretched it towards Professor Snape. "Please have one, sir."

Snape's face paled. He didn't expect Harry to share his concoction with him.

"Thank you, Harry."

The boy smiled. Snape was taken aback by how green the eyes were. Lily's eyes staring at him in happiness.

_Ask him to bring you to Gringotts, Harry. _

Harry perked up. he stared at the surprisingly kind Potion Master.

"Sir, can I ask you something…?"

Snape was ready for another chat about life and its meaning, ready to make Harry forget his intense wish to die, when the boy asked the most casual thing:

"Can you bring me to Gringotts soon, Sir? Maybe before summer break?"

'Why, Child? Is there something you need?"

"I… I… well; someone told me I need to check it, just to make sure."

Snape nodded. "I will try and make room for you, Potter. Maybe two weeks from now, weekend?"

Harry thanked the professor repeatedly. Then he excused himself and took the remaining five vials. Snape watched as the boy disappeared from the door.

* * *

><p>He gave three vials to the elves. It was a messy event, actually. Each side insisted that the other shouldshouldn't receive/give the gift. In the end Harry asked them to play paper-rock-scissor with him. And because the elves didn't really understand the rules, Harry easily won the contest and gave the vials to the house elves. The elves rewarded him back with many cauldron cakes. Harry enjoyed the cakes and gleefully spent the whole day in the kitchen. Marvolo didn't have the heart to order Harry to study. He let Harry played with the elves and Hedwig (these days Hedwig always come to the kitchen whenever Harry was there. It seemed that one of the elves always brought his owl in whenever Harry came. The bird especially loves when she could enjoy two of her most favourite thing in the world at the same time: her boy and beacons).

It was a single, most wonderful week Harry ever had. He couldn't stop smiling, feeling appreciated and accepted at the same time. Moreover, Professor Snape didn't seem to hate him that much now. Marvolo was always supporting him and Annana likes him. The elves enjoyed his company and Harry felt at ease.

Maybe Hogwarts wasn't as bad as he used to think. Or maybe it was the people who made it bad.

There was one incident about his headmaster that angered Marvolo so much. The old magician once found him in the kitchen, and his blue eyes twinkling when he saw Harry was helping the elves by peeling potatoes. He gave Slytherin 10 points for 'agreeableness', asking Harry whether everything is okay, whether he had liked the 'gift'. Harry answered positively and thanked the headmaster. The headmaster started to engage Harry in conversation about sweets. Unfortunately, since Harry was unaccustomed with rewards like sweets, he couldnt answer much and he had not much opinion about it. Dumbledore left after he failed to make more conversation with the boy. Harry didn't quite catch what was happening, but Marvolo growled loudly in anger.

_He is trying to make you think like a servant, Harry! That old goat, always manipulates people around him so much, he has a God-complex, I tell you. _

Holiday ended in that fashion. Marvolo's anger only calmed down when the children came back to the castle. Harry thanked Blaise for the gift and then shared the concoction with his friend. Blaise blushed and they enjoyed the concoction together. Harry's tasted like melted chocolate while Blaise's tasted like lemonade. They laughed and enjoyed themselves at the corner of Slytherin's common room, oblivious to the stares they got.

Blaise was a handsome child by his birth; with his mixed Italian-African traits. His features, added by his family background and wealth, made him uite an attractive boy. Moreover, he was brought up in high pureblood society, so his manners was perfect and gentlemanly. On the other hand, Harry, after being fed continuously by super eager house elves, became healthier looking and glowing. His sweet and adorable built was clearer now for all to see. Also, the clothes that Professor Snape bought for him added up to his looks. All in all, they both enjoyed the night together, even after Draco Malfoy and his bodyguards came and joined them for a series of exploding snap game.

* * *

><p>They have a new DADA professor. It was a kind looking man named Remus Lupin. Harry wasn't really paying attention, because he was busy staring at the wolf beside the man. The wolf seemed like transparent, like a soul. It was greyish in colour, with white belly. The wolf stared at the room, the kids and the ceilings, but after a while he started to notice Harry's stare as well. And it followed Professor Lupin everywhere. It seemed very gentle, and Harry wondered whether he could pat the wolf.<p>

Marvolo read his thought and asked him about it. Harry realized he was the only one who could see the wolf. And he wondered about it for the whole session. Professor Lupin caught his inattentiveness and asked Harry to stay back after class. Flushing from embarrassment, Harry started to pay attention and mastered the jelly-leg jinx by his first try. He was awarded 5 points for it, and Blaise smiled proudly at him even though Blaise was the one Harry jinxed jelly-leg on.

Harry stayed back and walked to his professor desk. He felt like a déjà vu, as he has a similar meeting with Professor Dumbledore before. Dreading what was coming; Harry bit his lip and kept his silence.

"Harry," The man called him. "Why didn't you pay attention just now? Is there any problem?"

Harry shook his head, apologizing in silent. He then saw the wolf was staring at him, two blue eyes staring so close, nose sniffing him. Harry lost his control and showed his hand for the wolf to sniff at. After he was scented, Harry started to pat the wolf. The wolf stiffened under his touch, but soon enough, the wolf became more welcoming to Harry's touch.

"Harry? What are you doing?" The professor paled, feeling something changed within him. The wolf inside him suddenly was purring happily. "Ha..Harry?"

"The wolf likes being patted." Harry smiled gently and scratched its ear. "Is this your pet, sir? Why is it a wolf? And why is it transparent like a ghost? Is this your pet ghost? What's its name?"

"I don't have a pet ghost, Harry. Do you… do you really see a wolf?"

Harry nodded, continued patting the now purring wolf. The beast yipped and wagged its tail like a dog; Harry laughed and scratched it behind the ear. It howled loudly and licked Harry's hand.

"We…well." Professor Lupin stammered. "That is… odd." But he regained his composure, letting Harry go to his next class. As the boy went away, Remus Lupin wondered what happened. His initial wish to talk to the boy about his parents was gone. Yes, Remus was personally requested by Dumbledore to convince Harry that his parents are not drunk-driving idiots, unlike what the boy believes. But now Remus felt afraid that his secrets would be known if he pursued to talk to Harry as much as he planned to do. The boy felt like _touching_ his inner wolf. He could feel the wolf wagging its tail happily inside him. And the boy admitted to _see_ a wolf… what happened?

* * *

><p>Days turned to weeks and months. And before he knew it, Harry was having his final examination week. Marvolo refused to help him in exam time, but he made sure that Harry was really prepared, especially for the theory part. Harry spent his time studying, with Blaise and Draco and Crabbe and Goyle in the common room. It was a silent agreement in Slytherin that whenever it was exam time, common room should be silent until the pin drop sound. Everybody was diligently preparing themselves, because the ambitious house always prepared themselves for the worst.<p>

Sometimes the first year girls joined them; and Harry was glad for it. Daphne Greengrass was the smartest in Astronomy; her knowledge about stars rivalled or maybe even surpassed Granger's. Tracy Davis, on the other hand, was a natural in charms theory, as she was better than Harry in theory, but not in practical. Pansy Parkinson was the single most disruptive of their study group with her biting comments and the urge to always complain when she couldn't understand something. Draco acted like her handler—they were engaged to be married anyway and by the engagement law the girl needed to listen to everything the Malfoy's heir said.

Harry started to become popular when other kids realized how good he was in practical. But Harry didn't know how to teach though, and that made him quite useless in the group study. He tried his best, by showing them how to do it in his own way. Yet he didn't realize that it was harder for others to understand as they didn't have Harry's level of magical power.

The exam passed in peaceful manner, with Harry being unable to answer some of history questions and managed to finally re-potted his plants in herbiology but excelled in his DADA, transfiguration and charms practicals. His matchstick turned into a baseball bat, much to the surprise of Professor McGonagall, as it was almost impossible for a first year to transfigure things into bigger, and more complicated object. Harry also made the ball levitated and swirled around him in charms, and then added with some objects in Professor Flitwick's examination room to make a puppet show starring 'the red ball and the big bad book' complete with his narration and sound effects. The small professor felt down from his chair when he saw what Harry could do with the balls and objects. Professor Lupin, on the other hand, was very impressed when Harry could curse him with a jelly-leg curse. The kind professor was even more baffled when he realized he couldn't cancel the jinx himself; in the end it was Harry who gave the counter spell.

The day exams ended, all students went to the Lake to wind up. Marvolo, however, dragged Harry to the Chamber of Secret.

_It's time. We need to move soon. Especially since Dumbly is not here. _

"How do you know?" Harry asked, intrigued. Marvolo seemed to know everything.

_I have my own ways._

* * *

><p>I try to cut it short. I am not big in details. Meh. Also, thank you for expressing the like for the name. Annana sounds gentle, no?<p>

Thank you very much for reviews, although it seemed like the last chapter doesnt really gather enthusiasm as much as the others. Well, next chapter will get Harry back on track. This chapter is out because I feel that the boy deserves a bit of normality and happiness as a kid. Especially with Voldemort looking after him. Yet, I need to warn you this MIGHT end up as slash. MAYBE.

Review?


	7. Chapter 7

This is what makes the story rated as M. PLEASE DONT CONTINUE if you cannot accept the concept of child abuse (both violence and sexual).

Thank you for the review, and I perfectly understand if you decide to stop reading after this chapter.

Please read with care.

* * *

><p>Harry wondered where they were going. He grabbed Annana's body as tight as he could, as the serpent passed through every nook and cranny of slimy pipes. It was lucky that Harry was small and slim; so he could squeezed himself inside the pipes while still hanging on Annana. The slime hung on his body, making it greenish and sticky. Harry hold tight, despite the nauseating smell and dirtiness.<p>

Marvolo was guiding Annana, and Harry was mediating it, but all he spoke was about direction (_left, right, up, down, to your eft, etc.) _and so Harry could only guessed where they were going.

Finally they reached a place that looked like a dead end. Annana hissed and bumped herself to the wall. The rock started to fall down and Annana slide down, with Harry on her body, feeling like he was playing roller coaster, although he never knew such amusement exists.

"Whee!"

His gleeful scream was cut short when he heard a growl. Harry looked up to see the three headed dogs he saw in the third level corridor. Oh, Harry realized that they were in the forbidden corridor. The dog snarled viciously at him and Annana; but suddenly it became silent and dropped on the floor, frozen.

What happened? Harry was very amused.

_The only living thing immune to Annana's sight is Parseltongue Speaker. _

So the dog died. Harry frowned. And here he thought he could charm the dog back into its normal size and take care of it like a pet.

_You never amused me, child. You have the tendency to be Hagrid the second. _

Harry didn't understand what Marvolo meant. He hasn't meet Hagrid for a long time now. Hagrid was the person who introduced him to the Diagon Alley, true, but they never met again afterward.

_Shush. Now, go inside the trap door. _

Annana hissed in agreement and Harry opened the trap door. It was dark inside, but he hung onto Annana and went in. Another jet-coaster like movement making Harry feel like his stomach is up to his mouth. "Wheeee!"

Then some tendrils came around them, trying to grab them. Harry felt a bit scared but mostly amused. Maybe this is why the Headmaster said this place gives a painful death. There was a three headed dog; and now a living, moving plant. Maybe this plant eats human as well? Carnivore? Yet when he saw the tendrils, he remembered that the plant was something he saw in the herbiology lesson with Professor Sprout. It was the Devil's Snare.

_Good, child. Think. What should we do now? _

Harry wondered, while the plant slowly wrapped him and Annana. The serpent tried to twist her way out, and since she was so strong, she half succeeded. But Harry took his time (he didn't mind dying anyway) and he _thinks_.

"Lumos!" Harry suddenly shouted, realizing that the Devil Snare hates light. Due to his excitement, he forgot to control his power. Harry's wand produced a source of light as bright as the sun, and it blinded him for a while. He felt his body dropped onto the carpeted floor, with Annana already at the bottom.

_:That was unnecessarily bright, Harry.: _Annana hissed in irritation. _:I am quite blind now.:_

_Relax, Annana, you'll get normal back soon. _

Harry nodded, although his eyes were also still twinkling in so many colours. After adjusting themselves, they realized that they were in a room with ridiculously high ceilings painted like the sky, with so many birds flying around them. Harry observed nearer and the birds were not birds, they were flying keys.

_This must be Flitwick's. Harry, grab a key that suit the door. _

Harry observed the door by the other end and decided the lock should be big and with complicated teeth. He looked around, amused by the sight where Annana tried to kill all the keys with her eyes, but since the keys weren't living things; they continued fly around her. She then resorted to be the beast she was, showing her fangs and tried to bite every single key that came near her.

_Ignore her. She is having fun. Grab those brooms, Harry. _

"But I never fly." Harry frowned. Marcus Flint promised him a flying lesson, but so far he didn't get one. The sixth year seemed busy with his school stuff and the final quidditch match which would be held today.

_I'll teach you. Say Up! _

"Up!" Harry shouted and two brooms stuck in his either hands. Marvolo laughed hard and told him he only needed one. Harry blushed in embarrassment, and mounted the broom on his right hand side. "What's next, Marvolo?"

_Then fly. _

What? Harry was sceptical for a second, but his broom took control and they went up, high. Harry felt like he was squeezed in a tube, being in such speed up, but it was also fun. Flying is awesome! Harry touched the broom and it responded in the way Harry wanted. After adapting himself to flying, Harry started his search on the key. An old key with complicated teeth. Harry went around and around. He finally spotted the said key on top of one of the branches on the ceilings, so he went there and grabbed the key. It flied down, trying to avoid Harry's hand. Yet Harry was faster, and he landed down with the key on his hand.

After opening the door and hold onto Annana's body again, they slide through to the next room. It was dimmed, but a huge chessboard was blocking their way to the next door. One of the black pieces suddenly bowed down to them, as if asking Harry and Annana to play with them. Marvolo ordered both Annana and Harry to take the place of the queen.

Harry watched in amusement as the play go. Marvolo's movements were amazing. One by one he took the white pieces away. Then suddenly Marvolo ordered the queen piece (where Annana and Harry were on) to go straight till the end of the board. It was just a straight line, like the scene of Moses parting the Dead Sea.

Annana slide (with Harry on top of her) through the board. They didn't win the chess match, Marvolo stated. Marvolo played just so that they could pass through to the other side of the board. The door opened in front of them, and as Annana and Harry slide in, they were welcomed with foul smell, rivalling those of rotten garbage and the greenish pipe slime.

A roar was heard and Harry saw a huge, huge Giant. Harry's eyes opened wide in surprise. It was his first time seeing the magical creature face to face. They look fine, it was just their body odour was too unbearable.

_It's a troll, Child. Not a giant. _

"What's the different?" Harry asked, as the troll came nearer to them.

_They used to have some magical traits and they can swim. But nowadays trolls are stupider than giants. Well, and also smaller. _

Harry tilted his head, waiting for the troll. The troll saw them, and stopped in his place. It was dead.

_Annana! Don't kill him! I was thinking of maybe playing with him for a while? _Harry hissed in frustration.

Annana hissed back in amusement. _Sorry. I can't control my sight. I am too strong, Harry. _

Harry pouted, but he held on when Annana passed through the next door. Once they went in, the door suddenly closed and two fires erupted around them.

Annana hissed in surprise because she hated close contact with fire (although she loves the heat). Harry climbed down, and sensing Annana's distress, he asked the snake whether she wanted to stay in her pocket for a while until they passed the room.

Annana agreed, and Marvolo taught Harry how to minimize Annana into a smaller serpent. Harry then put Annana on his arms, letting the now-very small snake-wrapped around his left arm.

He then looked around to see some potions. And a poem.

_Never know he likes to make poems as well, _Marvolo laughed inside Harry's head. Harry concluded that the maker of the room was Professor Snape. He then looked around and after Marvolo deciphered what Harry supposed to do, the boy took one of the vial, and drunk it all.

He passed through the fire, while holding Annana tight because she didn't drink the potion. They passed through while Annana grumbled of almost being a 'grilled snake'. They then arrived into a room, a bigger and brighter room than the others, to find a mirror in the middle of the room. The mirror looked old and antique, standing proudly, almost touching the ceilings.

Marvolo commented on how childish the traps were, and a first year could pass through the whole traps with no problem. Dumbledore must have thinking of the traps so that Harry could pass through, and although Marvolo didn't know why, he suspected that the old goat was preparing his little 'weapon'. Harry just silent as he listened and he started to understand how cunning an adult could be, not only they always wanted to hurt him, they also wanted to manipulate his power. Harry wasn't sure whether it was because of Marvolo's influence or his own thinking, but Dumbledore became a kind of evil figure in his head.

When Harry stepped in, he read 'Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on whosi'. Thinking that it might be a weird spell, Harry chanted the words, and suddenly the mirror brightened as if it was a living thing. Somekind of old magic was activated and it permeated through the air. Harry felt the sparkles and wondered why magic is quite similar to electricity sometimes. Annana hissed in irritation, but she was still hidden in Harry's sleeve. The serpents then asked Harry to return her size back; which Harry compelled with. Harry looked upon the mirror, and he saw an old man, older than Dumbledore, with sad eyes but overall he looked like a sage.

_**You called me? **_

Harry nodded, and the mirror sighed.

_**It's been hundreds of years since someone this young actually have the power to call me. Who are you, child?**_

"Harry, sir. Harry Potter."

_**Well, what is your wish, then? Please don't ask weird narcissist thing like what the last queen were asking. I am not here to be a mirror for your outer appearance; I am here to be a mirror that grants you a wish. **_

"A wish, sir?"

_**A wish with enough power exchange. I usually just show your innermost desire, but if you are strong enough to grant me a power return, I can make your wish come true. **_

Harry stopped thinking. His mind returned to the past, his horrible memories being a slave and unwanted guest in the Dursley's house. He remembered his drunk driving parents. He remembered his classmates' hateful expression. He remembered the bully from Gryffindor and the gossips from Hufflepuff. He remembered the letter incident. He remembered the disappointment and embarrassment. He remembered the kidnapping. He remembered the beatings from his uncle. He remembered his uselessness and unworthiness.

The mirror said it could grant his wish. Harry's ultimate wish, which everybody stopped him from getting it, is death.

"I want dea…" His words were cut short when suddenly Marvolo came forward and controlled his body. Marvolo had known what Harry would ask, and he would never let the child have it. And so, it's better to blew up his cover than to risk Harry being dead. Also, he knew it was a trap for him anyway, Dumbledore must know how the mirror got its power from. The Mirror of Erised is a magical mirror which showed the innermost desire. But the mirror doesn't have its own magical core, so it needs to get an energy source from outside. Usually it absorbed the energy of any wizard/witch who has very powerful magical core. By putting the stone inside the mirror, Dumbledore gave Voldemort two choices: leave without the stone, or get the stone and sacrifice his own power. Marvolo was sure the reason Dumbledore wasn't able to feel him inside Harry's head was because of Dumbledore's weakened state. But the old fool had a mistake: he was inside Harry's body, and it would be Harry's power that the mirror would absorb.

"_I want the Philosopher Stone." _

The sage in the mirror looked surprised and he was smiling in amusement.

_**You are not the child. Who are you? Why are there two people inside one? **_

"_It's not your problem. Just give me the Philosopher Stone." _

_**Sorry. Without power, I cannot give you anything. You are quite powerless now. Maybe when you returned to your real body, you can call me. Now, I only listen to the child. **_

Marvolo frowned. He couldn't let the child handle this. Harry's power would be absorbed by the mirror. The problem was that Harry was still a boy. His magical core was still growing. By giving the mirror his power, Harry might lose or damage his magical core. And once you called the mirror, it wouldn't let you go until you gave it a bargain. Marvolo knew it was a win-win situation for him: Harry either dead or became a squib and he got the stone. But somehow he just couldn't let the child lost his magic. Harry has survived solely because of his magic. Without it, Marvolo knew Harry would die in matter of weeks, due to the boy's suicidal tendency. And he was back to the main question: why did he care so much for the orphaned boy?

While he was contemplating his choices, his energy grew weaker, and the unicorn blood wasn't enough to sustain his control over Harry anymore. Harry snapped back and forced Marvolo returned to his place in the back of Harry's head. The boy then looked straight at the mirror, eyes staring in absolute conviction.

"I want death, sir."

The mirror grimaced. _**Sorry, my child. If you die, then I cannot take your power. You need to ask for something else. **_

Harry bit his lower lips in disappointment. Even the mirror rejected his wish! What is the problem with people? What was so bad about letting him die? But now wasn't the right time to woe about himself. He needed to ask for something else. They were here for the Philosopher Stone. Marvolo wanted him to live and Marvolo wanted the Philosopher Stone. So Harry asked for the Stone.

The mirror nodded and showed Harry the stone, carefully putting it into his pocket. Immediately, Harry felt something heavy and alive on his pocket. The stone pulsated like a heart, slowly but sure. It even generated heat.

_**Then I will take your power as an exchange. **_

Harry immediately felt his power drained so much. His legs buckled and he went down onto the floor before losing his consciousness.

* * *

><p>When Harry was awake, he realized he was inside his Professor's room.<p>

The last thing he remembered was having the Stone in his pocket and now he woke up on a bed. He wondered what happened. He sniffed himself and found a bit of smell left; but overall he was clean. It was the second time he woke up there, the first being after he went to the Chamber of Secret. He looked around and found that there was nobody.

_Marvolo?_ He asked, but he was answered by silence. _Annana?_

Harry called him again. No answer. Harry checked his robes and the stone wasn't inside his pocket anymore. Strange. The stone was missing. He was sure it was inside his pocket. Maybe Marvolo knew about it. So Harry called Marvolo again.

Well, no answer. Maybe Marvolo was sleeping. So Harry tried again. He closed his eyes and called in his head, but Marvolo wasn't there.

"Marvolo?" He asked louder, barely a whisper, but still he called out. "Annana, Marvolo?"

He was starting to feel desperate. "Marvolo?"

Still no answer, still silence.

Then a realization hit him. Maybe Marvolo had left him. The professor has gotten the Stone, and now Harry was useless. And Marvolo didn't even kill Harry before he left…

He remembered that Marvolo was still inside him even after the unicorn meeting. He said he was just tired. So Marvolo might be still inside Harry's head, just tired and hiding. A part of him cried in disbelief and forced himself to be uncharacteristically positive. So Harry closed his eyes, and trying to call Marvolo with his magic. And then he was welcomed by an empty space. When he tried to go further, he stumbled inside his mind. He shivered. He felt so weak, and even though he tried to call his magic, nothing came.

And no matter how long, how much, how desperate he became, his calls were never returned. Marvolo wasn't there anymore. He had left.

He left Harry alone.

His chest started to throb, just like before Christmas.

Marvolo _left_ him.

He was alone again.

It was painful. Marvolo left him… because Harry was useless. He was alone again now, and the Hogwarts Express will take him back to the Dursley. Harry had secretly hoped that Marvolo would take him someplace else, where they could be together and he could help Marvolo gained his body back. Or maybe Marvolo would take him as a servant. Harry didn't mind, as long as he was still with Marvolo. Marvolo was the only person who actually helped him and protected him, and always be with him for almost the whole year. But Marvolo has left him; just like what his parent did. They died because they didn't want Harry around. And so did Marvolo.

He couldn't bring himself to blame Marvolo. He knew it was his, _Harry's_, problem. It always happened. People left him because he was useless, the 'freak'. Then he realized that he couldn't call his magic either. It was gone. The warmth that was inside his body was gone. It was now empty and cold.

He has lost everything.

"Are you awake, Potter?" Professor Snape entered the room. He saw the child, pale and eyes like dead fish. Snape blinked and prepared himself for a gentle interrogation. He found the boy unconscious in front of his door again, but this time the boy wasn't sleeping. He was so dirty and smelled like hell. So Snape cleaned him up and checked Harry's health. Despite having no injury, Harry's magical core was dangerously low, almost matching those of a squib's.

The boy nodded, and hurriedly moved out from the bed as if he was afraid. Snape grimaced. The boy looked so weak and lost. "What are you doing, child?"

"I am sorry sir, for using the bed. I am fine on the floor, sir. I will clean up better, sir."

"Potter… Harry, don't be ridiculous. You are hurt and you need a rest. Tell me what happened? Why is your magical core so strained that it almost gone?"

"My magic… is gone..?" Harry asked weakly. So he was right. He has lost his power. He was not a 'freak' anymore! And it should be a good thing, yet he felt sad. Maybe Marvolo left him because Harry lost his magic. Marvolo hates 'muggles' so much, and now that Harry is a 'muggle', he left him.

"It's alright child. We can treat it… but I am not sure when it will be back. Do you want to eat anything? But please tell me what happened, why are you covered in slime and why does your magic depleted so much?"

"S…Sir, I… if I lost my magic, then I won't be able… to attend this school anymore, right?"

"Harry…" Snape sighed and kneeled down before the child. The child was biting his lower lips, trying to hold the tears in. "It is not that simple. I know you don't feel great about the school, but you will recover, Child. Trust me."

Harry wanted to laugh. It was like the exact reverse. He used to hate the school and magic because it caused him more pain than the Dursley. But now, after meeting Marvolo and Blaise and Professor Snape and Annana and the house elves, he started to feel accepted. And now, as if God was saying Harry doesn't deserve any good thing, he took away Marvolo and his magic power. God took every of Harry's happiness because… because he was the 'bad guys'. The bad guys deserved to die. The bad guys are always lost and sad and evil. Freak. Like him.

He lost his magic. That means Harry wasn't welcome inside the castle or the school anymore. He would need to return to his relatives' house. He would need to leave Blaise and the elves behind. He even lost Annana. After being nice and friendly for half a year… everything will be lost in vain. Nobody would want him. Nobody wanted a child without magic here. They would throw him back to the Dursley because Harry has nobody else to go to. The Dursley didn't want him as well, but they were stuck with him because of blood.

How funny that he thought he was accepted here. In the world of magic.

His chest throbbed so hard, it was hurting so much.

Yet he couldn't cry. He knew it was his fault. So he shouldn't cry. He doesn't deserve a cry either.

* * *

><p>Harry never wanted to die so much as he was feeling now.<p>

After arriving on the Platform 9 ¾ with the Express, he went back to the muggle side of the train station. He said goodbye to Blaise and Draco, wishing them well. Blaise looked at him funnily, but Harry wasn't very talkative ever since he returned from Professor Snape's quarters. They left him alone, and Harry felt the silent was more fitting for his last day in the magical world.

He then met his uncle—who was, weirdly, waiting for Harry alone without Aunt Petunia or Dudley—standing in front of the station. His uncle was uncharacteristically silent, and so was Harry (whom always silent). They sat on the car, and Harry watched as the cars and houses and parks passed by. They almost reached Privet Drive when suddenly his uncle changed direction. He looked like he was constipated, and Harry knew his uncle was thinking of something. Whatever it was, it would never be good one for Harry.

The boy didn't care, though. Now that his relatives are the ones who would accept him, Harry knew he should do everything to make them happy. And if his uncle wanted him to do something new, he was fine with it.

They drove to a deserted part of the big park, and Uncle Vernon parked under the tree, away from the eyes of public. He then looked at Harry, who was sitting beside driver's seat, and grabbed the boy's hair roughly while opening his own pant's zipper.

Harry was surprised and he didn't realize what was happening when suddenly his face was pushed down—just to find Uncle Vernon's penis on his lips.

"Suck, boy." His uncle growled. "If you do well, I won't tell your auntie and you'll get food tonight."

Harry was speechless; his mind blank. He didn't understand what was happening. But he knew that it was wrong. He shouldn't do it. He shouldn't.

But if he didn't do it, who would take care of him? Now that everybody won't let him die, then he needed to stay alive and staying alive meant he needs to have somebody taking care of him… right? Food, shelter and clothes. He needed all those. He needed his relatives' mercy. He should do it.

He didn't realize that he was probably the only first year in Slytherin that year that ever needs to think where his next meal would come from.

And he started to suck. It was… disgusting. Harry didn't know which disgust him more, his uncle's smelly thing or his own mouth, who followed meekly as his uncle grabbed and pushed his hair to induce friction. His uncle warned Harry against biting his 'stuff'. Harry's hair were in pain from the harsh grab, his hips and back were in pain from the weird angle, but his chest… his chest was the most painful.

_Marvolo… helped me. _

But of course, he got no answer. Finally it ended, and Harry was forced to drink the liquid. It smelled and tasted like rotten fish. Like the troll. Like the slime. It was sliding down his throat, settling uncomfortably inside his stomach. And Harry was dirty.

His uncle started the engine and they drove back to Privet Drive. Harry kept his silent, and when he arrived he took his stuff, and then went straight to his cupboard under the stairs. He vomited everything inside him before he reached the cupboard, and he knew he would be whipped for it, but now, he couldn't care less. He went inside the cupboard and slammed it close.

He curled on his cot. He wanted to die so much. But how? He knew Marvolo had left him, but he still will keep his promise. And Harry is now so dirty anyway, he knew his parents won't love him anymore. Even if Harry was dead. He is now both a 'freak' and dirty. He was useless. He was worthless. Death was not an option anymore. He needs to live in the living hell. All in all, it was his own fault.

He sobbed to his cot in silence. Hogwarts was a nice dream. So nice.

So nice.

* * *

><p>Meanwhile, Snape was making a mental note in his mind. Harry's visit to Gringotts was postponed until the summer holiday. Snape had apologized to the boy stating that he has so many things to do and he couldn't bring Harry out from the castle. He didn't tell Harry the actual reason: Dumbledore refused to give Harry a day outings, especially when he knew where Harry wanted to go. Something was fishy, and Snape didn't want to make unnecessary conflict.<p>

Harry's explanation of why he was unconscious and covered in slime was a prank. He said he fell into a hole and he just fainted until he woke up inside Snape's bedroom. But Snape knew the boy was lying. He couldn't see it, the boy's expressionless face was hard to read; but Snape's instinct was crying something else. Something must have had happened. And the boy believed that he was now a muggle, incapable for using magic, and thus, not welcome anymore. The boy was happy these few months, and yet a night changed it back into the depressed child he met back in Harry's first detention.

Silly child, of course. He was the saviour, and even though the wizarding world was stupid and selfish, they would still want the symbol of win against the Dark Lord near. Thus, the professor waited until the middle of the summer holiday to go to Privet Drive and took Harry to Gringotts. That way, Dumbledore wouldn't realize what happened. But the recent event made him changed his mind and he would go to Harry's place sooner.

Though how soon the visit would be, Snape wasn't really sure.

* * *

><p>If you still think you want to read the continuation, then I want to ask your opinion: Snape or Voldemort?<p>

Thank you for reading and staying with this story.


	8. Chapter 8

Thank you so much for the reviews. By the way. Voldemort wins hands down. Snape are elected as a father/mentor figure. Well, I intend to use the poll result to decide who would save Harry, but your reviews give me another outlines of ideas. Wonderful, Thank you so much.

The 'want both!' choice made me smile. wow, threesomes yes?

But the slash will need to wait, yes? Harry is still a boy, yes?

Is having mid-sem exams. Very grouchy now. Needs more support.

Enjoy!

* * *

><p>Some days has passed. Harry couldn't be bothered to count. His mind was busy hiding behind the thick barrier in his head as his body were whipped, kicked and scolded upon.<p>

He was whipped several times for vomiting on the floor. Then he was kicked for being unable to cook the perfect breakfast the next morning—Harry woke up late, too late for his aunt's standard anyway. And then he forgot to clean the backyard—and that earned him another twenty lashes from his uncle.

He was thankful that so far his uncle hadn't ordered him to do anything like last time. Harry preferred the kick and whips compared to those. He just hated it so much, the taste, the feeling as it entered his mouth that nowadays he couldn't stomach any food; as everything tasted like _those stuff. _

From the kick and beating he got for breaking Duddley's pen (The 'big-boned' boy intentionally throw the pen, aiming at Harry's eyes but instead marred Harry's cheek with blue ink, and fell to the floor. The pen then ceased to produce ink, so Duddley told his mother that Harry has broken his pen), Harry got half swollen face. His right face was blue in black; and his eyes were hidden under swollen eyelids. Truthfully, he didn't look like half a human right now. Dudley even looked away in disgust, and a bit of fear.

Harry knew that now his magic was lost, his injury wouldn't be healed. And it was there for everyone to see: just by the five days Harry has been there, his skins were in various colours but his natural pale white. The boy walked in stagger; sometimes needed to support himself with the wall, while walking slowly to do his next chores. The Dursley realized, after those five days, that Harry wasn't as resilient as he was before. Before, Harry's ability to heal made him returned to perfect every morning; now Harry still carried the marks of abuse he got from previous days. For that, they actually felt scared from being found; and they lessened their harsh treatment and gave Harry a bit more food, like a toast extra in the morning.

On the other hand, Harry couldn't feel the pain. It seemed that with so many pain, his brain just gave up and instead focusing on hiding Harry's mind behind the thick barrier. Harry also refused to see himself in the mirror. He hadn't headed for bath for the last two days as his aunt forbid him to take a bath inside the house; for fear Harry bringing in 'fleas' and 'diseases'. So he took his shower outside, carefully washing his wounds and skin. And when he did, his eyes always wondered around, searching for any snakes. He missed Annana so much. He wanted to talk with her again.

His robes and books were taken forcedly by Dudley when Harry was repacking his stuff and the boy thought it was funny to burn them. Harry watched in sadness as the robes from Professor Snape and his school books burnt to ash. His other stuff was secured inside his trunk, which he hid in the further end under his cot. Dudley was too fat to reach in. He released Hedwig the next day he arrived, telling the sweet bird to stay in Hogwarts. Harry was sure the elves would welcome Hedwig as their pet. He slipped a note to them, asking their help to take care of Hedwig for him. And it was the best decision, because his uncle threatened Harry that if Hedwig was around the Privet Drive, the bird would be grilled.

And so, Harry returned to the days in Privet Drive. Nothing changed much, and Harry was thankful for it. At least he still had a roof on top of his head. He had lost his appetite and ability to eat; also Duddley's hands-me-downs were big enough to cover his whole body without using pants. Harry even used it as a mop when his blood stained the floor after a whipping session. The only act that made him smile was when he touched the chocolate frog from Blaise and the porcelain mug from the elves. They were securely tucked inside his trunk, and Harry took them out each night just to remind himself of the good dream in Hogwarts. His chest throbbed in pain when he did that, but Harry was already in constant pain level anyway, so the boy didn't care.

Yes, at least he still has a roof on top of his head.

* * *

><p>Two weeks from the start of Summer Holiday, Serverus Snape apparated in front of the house he knew so well from childhood. Lily's house. It looked like what it was—except colder. The garden used to be wild and full of blooming life; now it was bare with carefully cut grass. The house used to be lovely in soft colours; but now it was purely white, as if it was the showcase house.<p>

He knocked on the door, firmly, twice.

"Yes?" The door was opened after five minutes and Snape faced Lily's dearest sister Petunia. The woman looked like she was preparing for TV-shows, with her pristine suits and pearl necklace. But her face turned sour when she saw Snape. "You!"

"Yes, me." Snape sneered. He still has the common sense to dress like a muggle, with a shirt and blazer. He knew that if he dressed like a wizard he was, Petunia would have a heart attack on the spot. "I am here for Potter."

"He…" Petunia's face paled. "He is not here. He is going away to his friend's house."

If Snape didn't know better, he would have believed the bluff; but he knew Harry and the boy didn't seem like the type who as popular enough to have so many friends to go to. He sneered again. "Don't lie, woman, and I won't hurt you."

Petunia stammered. "Che..Check for yourself."

Snape invited himself inside. "Where is his room?"

"It's… It's on the second floor, the furthest bedroom to the left."

Snape didn't reply and went up, counting the door and went to the last door. He opened it and found a very messy room filled with broken junks and a bed. It looked bare and resembled those of storages rather than a room. It might be Harry's room, but somehow Snape couldn't believe the woman. So he took out his wand and cast the detecting charm.

His wand pointed down, to the stairs. Snape followed, and he was truly shocked when his wand pointed to the door under the stairs. His mind was in disbelief, and he opened the room. It was dark, so Snape turned on the light.

The smell was a bit unbearable, but not of those old cleaning supply storages, but those of untreated wounds, blood and vomit. He looked around to see the evidence of Harry being there: the wall was clean, but there was a small childish writing, saying _Harry's room_ in the middle of it. A trunk was carefully placed under the cot, and suddenly a head appeared on the cot out of nowhere.

Snape was horrified when he saw Harry. The boy turned back to him to show a half swollen face, with blue and black marks on his other cheek. The boy moved and Snape realized Harry was hiding under the invisibility cloak. When the whole cloak opened up, he saw a painfully thin body covered in rags and bloodied cloths.

"Pro…fessor?"

"YOU!" Snape growled loudly, and with murderous intent he went back to the kitchen where Petunia cowed behind a chair. "WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO!"

Petunia cowered and kept her silent. But her eyes showed defiance, as if she was hiding because she knew how bad Snape's anger was, not because she was ashamed of herself for treating her own nephew like that. Snape's temper grew hotter and he threw a cutting hex towards the woman, just inches from where she was standing. The perfect kitchen floor exploded from the spell's power, and Petunia looked back in dismay.

Snape turned and saw that the small boy was looking at him emotionlessly.

"Professor Snape… why are you here?"

"I am… I am here to take you to Gringotts, Harry. But I think we need to go to St Mungo first."

"What is that, sir?"

"It's a wizarding hospital."

Harry stared at Snape. "Why, sir?"

"Don't you see the state you are in, now? Harry, don't walk, I will carry you there. We will apparate."

"I am fine, sir. It's always like this, why does it matter now?"

Snape paled. His suspicion was true. The boy was thoroughly abused until he didn't realize he was abused anymore. And since Harry's magical core was so low, the healing ability was not as active as it should be.

"You are hurt, Harry. We need to treat your injuries first."

Harry looked down. "But I don't have magic anymore, sir. I don't think it is wise to go back to magical world…"

"Silly child." Snape refused to hear more than that, and he swiftly took over Harry's body. Harry winced a bit, but Snape didn't want to waste time and accio'ed Harry's stuffs. He made them smaller, put it in his pocket. "Where is your other stuff, Harry? I can only call your trunk and cloak."

Harry whispered. "That's all I have, sir. Hedwig is in Hogwarts right now."

Snape's chest pained. He knew that tone. It was embarrassment. He used to feel that too, when he first entered Hogwarts. Between the rich purebloods, his stuffs were the cheapest and rags, although it was the best his mother could afford. The embarrassment when he needed to admit to Lucius Malfoy that his stuff were 'Just that' was mortifying.

So he silently took Harry out, trying as hard as he could to make Harry comfortable before warning the boy and apparated outside the barrier of Privet Drive.

* * *

><p>It became a sensation.<p>

There were several factors, including but not limited to the facts that (1) Harry was very famous, as the boy-who-lived, (2) Child abuse is a huge scandal in magical world which was facing problems from inbreeding and (3) The boy was such in severe condition even the healers were crying in rage when they saw Harry's state (even before they knew Harry was _the_ Harry Potter).

Minister Fudge was threatened by the howlers sent to him the day that news leaked to the public. Every single one of them demanded a better treatment for Harry, and for Fudge to find justice. Who did it? Which muggle? Who was the boy's magical guardian? And somehow the sensation was enough to jeopardize the statute of sercrecy and muggle protection act. People started to wonder, are muggles deserve the protection? Which one was more dangerous? Wizards or muggles?

The Muggle protection act undergoes a review and some proposals to change, or completely erased that act turned up in Winzengamot. And to safe his political face, Fudge acted fast for once. He signed aurors to find out what happened. He was trying to safe himself, since he was one of the parties against the muggle protection act (courtesy to Lucius Malfoy's advice). He needed to secure some of the proof and facts before Dumbledore, the muggle lover politician, reverse the order like he always did. Just to add cherry on top of the cake, Albus Dumbledore came on top of the list as Harry's magical guardian, as well as his supposed welfare officer. It was unusual, so investigation was taken further and it was revealed that Dumbledore was the one who left the boy 'in a safest place on earth' ten years ago. He was proven to be directly responsible for Harry Potter's injury and abuse; and he is reviewed for majority of Winzengamot viewed him as unfit to be their head anymore.

Public's anger and rage shifted towards Dumbledore. The headmaster received more howlers than he ever did in his long life, as well as cold treatment from his professors and rage from Serverus Snape. For once, Minerva McGonagall and Serverus Snape were on the same page, demanding answers from the headmaster.

Then the next day, somehow Rita Skeeter got the news of who Harry's' relatives were. And there was another shocking news, when they found the house deserted, with a corpse of a completely blood-drained man hung on the wall. His condition was so severe and the only reason why they recognized him as Vernon Dursley was because of his face autopsy. Most of the Wizarding World cheered to this, thanking Merlin for the retribution. But Dumbledore was worried. The ward has gone, and from the magical signature, it was a bit like Tom Riddle. It definitely not Tom's magic, but he could sense traces of Tom's style in it. Maybe Tom possessed someone and used their magic instead of his own magic.

That aside, Harry was overwhelmed with the attention he was given. The medical attention was helpful, and he realized how good it was not being in constant pain. His face was still swollen since it has been quite long, and his right eye completely shut from the prolonged swollen condition and scar tissues. The healers decided to soften the scar tissue and bandaged half his face with soaked herbs before preceded to a more detailed surgery. His body was another matter altogether. Madam Pomfrey sent Harry's personal data from Hogwarts' health files, and acts were taken accordingly. The ribs were broken in places and Harry's hip was fractured, that's why the boy walked in wobble. Furthermore, his ankle was badly twisted. Not to mention his arms being so brittle as he lacked the nutrients and was burdened with so many chores. His muscles and infected skin were treated immediately with spells and potions, so it wasn't a huge problem. Last but not least were his internal organs. Harry's body has adapted with the low diet and hard work until his stomach visibly shrunk. His heart was strained until the walls became very thin, and weaker than normal. His lungs were filed with blood and fluids from internal bleeding while his kidney almost completely shutdown. His liver tried to regenerate itself for the heavy duty it was given but was prevented by the lack of nutrition.

The full list was even longer, and Harry became the single worst nightmare in St Mungo's surgery department. Everyday Harry was sent into one surgery, either for his eye, bones or organs. The boy looked like he couldn't care less, never speak out unless he was directly asked, and never gives reaction to any stimuli. Moreover, his magical core was quite low, although it has grown up since the last time Snape measured it. Some mind healers were itching to get their hands on Harry, as they argued the boy suffered even worse mental injury than his body. But the surgery department wouldn't let Harry go before he was fully physically healed, so they waited with anxiety.

Yet nobody realized the symptoms of anorexia Harry was showing, addressing the lack of appetite (and Harry's inability to keep down inside his stomach) as effects from the heavy surgeries and pain. However, the nutrition potions sustained the small body for the mean time and thus, nobody realized that was something gravely wrong about Harry Potter.

* * *

><p>Harry opened his eyes to see another set of healers, Professor Snape and the headmaster beside his bed.<p>

"Are you awake, Harry?" The headmaster asked in his grandfatherly tone.

Harry nodded a bit, for his head was still heavy from the pain relieve potion.

"We are here to assess your condition, Harry." One of the healers told the boy. "Your headmaster; or the _magical guardian_,"—sarcasm was thick on her tone, "requested to move you to Hogwarts for further treatment. I suggest you think against it, Harry, because it is better that you have full 24 hours access of care. Madam Pomfrey is an excellent healer; however she couldn't be responsible for you 24 hours a day."

"Now, now, Healer Turpin, don't be ruthless. Madam Pomfrey is very capable of handling Harry. She has been a healer for Hogwarts children for a decade now. Harry, what do you think? You are not safe here; Hogwarts can give you more protection."

Harry tilted his head. "…Why? Why do I need protection? How about the Dursley?"

Dumbledore looked ashamed on that, and everybody in the room became tense. They knew the name, and although they never seen Harry's uncle, the news of his death was well known throughout the wizarding world. Dumbledore felt the pressure to tell Harry the news about his relatives, but he didn't want to burden the boy as yet, so instead he addressed the other problem.

"Because Voldemort is still a threat, Harry." Dumbledore answered kindly, while most of the wizards and witches in the room cringed when they heard the name.

"A threat? How?"

"He… He might hurt you, child."

"I can take it, headmaster. I am used to pain. I can take more than this. I am already healed anyway. Why not the Dursley? Didn't you say I have the best protection there? Isn't it why you left me there?"

The room was silent. Some healers were angered by the answer, how Harry was used to pain, showing how bad he was treated in the past. And Harry's answer further confirmed that Dumbledore was the one left him with those horrible people. The others cringed because they wouldn't in their right mind classify Harry as 'healed'. And Snape was not amused as he noticed how insensitive Dumbledore was. But Dumbledore continued, showing his ignorance of Harry's past history and that he, Albus Dumbledore, knew everything under the sky.

"Harry… he might even kill you."

Harry's left eye (the one which was healthy) suddenly brightened. "That's good. Finally someone wants to do that."

Snape growled behind his immaculate expressionless mask. The headmaster just opened up another taboo on the child: don't ever offer death to the broken boy. He would jump in happiness instead of curling in fear like other normal human.

"Harry?" Dumbledore asked in disbelief. "Why are you so happy? Aren't you afraid?"

"Why should I? I have nothing left to life for, sir. At least if somebody kills me then my parents won't mind if I am dirty." Harry smiled, looking angelic despite all the bandages around his face and the seriousness of his tone.

Healer Turpin cleared her throat. Her motherly feelings towards the boy increased two fold when she saw how he was coping with everything. The boy was sweet and selfless, demands nothing while thanking everything all the time. Harry often asked her why he was being treated, as if he wasn't used to be treated as a human. The frail boy was happy and grateful even though he was in great pain. She knew that her own daughter wouldn't be able to smile like Harry, instead she would be crying from pain. And to think they were of the same age…

"Professor Dumbledore, Professor Snape, I recommend you to stop this conversation. We need to check on Harry's condition."

Dumbledore looked like he remembered something and he turned back to the healer. "I want to ask you something, Healer Turpin. Is Harry's magical core level… low?"

"This is confidential, but as you are his _magical guardian_," another thick sarcasm tone, "I am obliged to answer you. And yes, it is quite low, although I am unsure why the meter showed it low. His magical energy now is quite normal for wizard of his age; yet the meter showed this is just a fraction of his full proportion. Something is wrong with the measurement. We are trying to make a better potion mixture to measure it."

Dumbledore's eye lost his twinkle and he turned to the boy, aura changed into seriousness.

"Harry, be honest, did you or did you not face the Mirror of Erised?"

The boy looked up, staring back at the headmaster. A part of him was ready to say yes, but another part of him remembered his promise to Marvolo. If he told the headmaster about the mirror, then he would need to explain why he wanted it in the first place. And then he needed to reveal about Marvolo. So, no. He shouldn't tell the headmaster. Although Marvolo had left him, at least Harry would still be keeping his promise.

"No, sir."

Dumbledore looked unconvinced. Harry closed his eyes as sudden wariness flushed his mind. His mind was probed again. But as always, Harry quickly hid his mind behind the strong wall, waiting. The probing grew more desperate and attacked his wall with strong blows. Harry closed his eyes, wincing, and the probing stopped.

"Then I think we need to cut short this visit. I wish you to get well soon, Harry. I am truly sorry of what happened and I will do my best to prevent any more future harm on you."

Harry didn't open his eyes, preferring silent compared to the empty promises. He was used to it anyway. Adults with their empty promises… Well, at least Harry wasn't a liar like Dumbledore or Marvolo. He still kept his promise, and he would till the day he die.

Which, if he could chose, would be very soon.

But of course, Fate wouldn't let Harry has his own way with his life. So Harry decided to take the matter aside: now that he couldn't openly pursue death anymore, maybe there were some books or written information that would help him about it. He shouldn't tell anyone about what he wishes for. He would let the world see what they wanted to see. And he was sure, no one wanted the 'freak' in him.

Slowly, as his mind drifted into emptiness and sleep, Harry tucked himself away, inside a box, deep behind the wall in his mind. He had been doing it slowly, starting from the day Professor Snape took him from Dursley house. Hiding behind the invisibility cloak gave him the idea. When he was hidden under the cloak, even his aunt couldn't see him and gave him more chores to do. He was protected under the invisibility. So he gradually tucked himself in, securely. He wouldn't let people come in, or touch it, or see it. It would be his secret forever. If he hid inside the box, no one could hurt him again, ever.

* * *

><p>Finally the day he could open the bandages came. Slowly the herbs were taken out, and Harry's face was cleaned. They showed him the mirror, and Harry looked at his own image, staring back at him.<p>

But something was missing.

His lightning-bolt scar was gone.

* * *

><p>Voldemort knew he was betraying Harry when he made Annana left the boy in front of Snape's door. He left Harry's mind and stayed with Salazar's familiar. He couldn't risk staying with Harry. The boy's magical core was severely depleted. If he stayed inside Harry, he would naturally suck the energy and Harry would die or his core would be destroyed. So instead, he took his Hocrux with him, and make Annana took the stone inside his mouth.<p>

It took him a week to realize the whole usefulness of Philosopher's Stone. It was a magical catalyst that wouldn't change in composition like an organic enzyme, but it is also quite volatile in a sense that every concoction produced by the stone has different characteristic. It could make a potion for immortality, but can also make the strongest poison in the world. If it is in contact with metals, it will turned the composition of the metals into something even more stable than it was, which more often than not, produced gold.

After carefully make sure that the potion he made was safe and perfect for the ritual, Voldemort used it to combine his wondering soul with the Hocrux he took from Harry. Making the potion was hard as he didn't have physical body, so Annana kidnapped one of wondering wizard at Hogsmeade for Voldemort to possess. But he finally succeeded, and now he has a body to possess, and a better portion of his soul. His mind became clearer and he realized that the more he made Hocruxes, the less his sanity and common sense intact. Realizing his stupidity for ignoring the nature of Hocrux, Voldemort decided to make himself as a whole again, with maybe just one Hocrux for insurance.

He silently went to the room of requirement and obtained the Ravenclaw's Diadem. Then he performed the ritual again, and now he has two of his hocruxes back.

With the return of his souls, Voldemort returned to his common sense and almost returned back to his initial seductive charm and calculative personality, not the quick tempered, volatile emotional madman he was when he attacked the Godric Hollow. He then raided the Salazar's library to find any rituals to return his body back.

When he found one, he realized that he needs more than just the Stone to achieve the ritual's requirement. The most ruthless ritual required bones of his father, flesh of his follower and his enemy's blood. But he wouldn't want to hurt Harry, and Harry was no longer his enemy, so he searched for another method (He also took into account that currently his enemy is Dumbledore, and getting some blood donor from the old goat made Voldemort's skin crawled in disgust). He was so immersed into his research that he forgot the time and date, and when he got a way to actually returned his body without the need to hurt Harry, it was already two weeks after the summer holiday.

Realizing he needed to save Harry from his bastard relatives, Marvolo opted to stay in his current stolen body and went to the house, Privet Drive. He prepared himself for Harry's sadness or anger, but he was surprised that Snape actually snatched Harry under his nose. He arrived just to find the horse woman told him that Snape has taken Harry with him to St. Mungo on the same day, in the morning.

Voldemort then quickly hid his irritation and made himself invited inside the house. Voldemort didn't realize that he could enter the Privet Drive's ward because of his emergence with the Hocrux in Harry's scar. Since the Hocrux has been with Harry ever since the ward was made, the ward acknowledged Voldemort's piece of soul as itself, and frankly, made Dumbledore's calculated protection worthless.

It was a bit late, and every single one of the Dursley was inside the house. Voldemort then performed legilimency on each of them, the woman first, the piggy son and then the fatty man. As he progressed (and each of his victim fainted in mind-rape pain), Voldemort felt his ager rise. But nothing could compare when he saw what the whale man had done to his Harry.

His beautiful, innocent Harry was forced to do such imaginable thing… and plus all the other sick imaginations the man had when he saw Harry, even with bruises and twisted limbs. Voldemort might be the Dark Lord, but this man took the crown. He was pure devil paedophile. Sick to the core.

He took the greatest pleasure in torturing the man. He hung Vernon Dursley on the wall and castrated his manhood. The scream of pain was blocked by the silencing charm Voldemort put around the house. Then he slowly cut the man's limbs, slices by slices. Everytime Vernon lost his consciousness, he enervated the man back and continued. It was hilarious and very satisfying.

Meanwhile he put the other two in body binds. They were both forced to see what happened to their father/husband, and Voldemort hinted that they would be next. It was very satisfying to see their distress and fear. But it was not enough, when he remembered what Harry had gone through.

So he took the two worthless muggles and apparated back to Chamber of Secret (which, apparently, allowed Salazar's descendant to apparate straight in through the Hogwarts ward. When he was young, Tom Riddle theorized that maybe the Chamber was built differently than the rest of the castle—it was possible that the chamber exists in another space, connected into the castle by Parselmagic). He kept them awake, but let them unharmed and blindfolded inside a bubble so that Annana wouldn't be able to kill them with her sight.

He has lots of torture plans for them, but it can wait for next time. He needed to gather his forces and for now, he let Harry recuperate in the St. Mungo. And then, just after he did all that and slowed down, he wondered why Harry matters so much to him, enough to make him kill.

Why?

* * *

><p>My pre-written chapter ends here. Please be patient for the next one.<p>

Review please? I swear they have morphine-like effect on me.


	9. Chapter 9

Thank you for all of your my reviewers~~ ! Thank you!

I didnt think it would turn out like this, I mean the Dumbledore-bashing. I didnt purposely set it up like that. The plot flow like that. I still believe that even though he is a manipulator, he still have a kind heart, or at least, he really loves Harry.

Enjoy!

* * *

><p>Harry woke up to find the familiar ceilings on top of him. It was the Slytherin First year dorm. He was on top of his bed. Alone, because it was in the early summer holiday and every student were back in their homes with their families. And here he was, alone because he has nobody.<p>

Harry closed his eyes again. He wanted to go back to sleep. He has the reason to, since he was still recuperating from his previous injured condition. He was still on potions regime and some therapies for both his gait and mind. But being alone on his bed made him wonder about so many things. And thinking tires him.

When the headmaster carefully told him that the Dursleys were gone and his uncle was killed brutally, Harry couldn't bring himself to believe whatever the old man was saying. Harry believed the headmaster was a lying master. Nothing that came out from his mouth was truth. It was always lies. And maybe the headmaster was lying again this time, though why he lie made Harry wonder. The lie was quite elaborate.

Or maybe the Dursleys just decided that they didn't want him anymore, and the headmaster was trying to safe Harry's feeling? Well, if that was the case then the headmaster was doing too much. Harry knew that the family loathed him. Being finally kicked out from the place was something that Harry knew would happened someday. He knew it and that's why he worked so hard to please them all these time because he still needed a place to stay. Harry just wished before it happened he would have someone… someone who would take care of him, or at least give him a roof over his head. And he thought he had one.

Marvolo.

The spark of disappointment for being abandoned by Marvolo was carefully tucked inside the box. The box was almost full as Harry always tucked away any bad feelings he had into the box. Harry even gave the box a name, 'Harry's box'. It was filled with so many emotions and memories he didn't want to see anymore. If he could, he would put his own name inside the box and get another name, which would be more loveable than Harry. Alas, the reality doesn't work that way.

When Harry was finally transferred to Hogwarts, he was happy. He thought he wouldn't be returning to Hogwarts ever again. At least now he could still meet the house elves and Annana. Yet again, reality failed him. The house elves were still kind, but somehow the headmaster had told them that Harry was sick, so no more playing, no more casual chats because Harry needed rest. So the house elves only appeared occasionally in front of him, cooing him with cookies and sweets, but none came and stayed to talk fun like they used to.

Annana was another matter. Harry travelled to the second floor girl's toilet to find that he couldn't speak Parseltongue anymore. He tried to hiss 'open', but the word never came into his mouth. As if the ability just disappeared with his magic. His magic returned, but the Parseltongue went away, just like his scar. And he couldn't open the door to the chamber, he couldn't speak to snakes, and of course, he couldn't see Annana anymore without being dead. He also met the girl ghost in the toilet, and the girl screamed at him for being a Slytherin. She said he was unwelcomed in the toilet anymore. Harry hasn't come back since.

Harry was very sad, losing both accesses to Annana and the elves. Harry cheered himself by staring at the chocolate frog, which sadly, looked like half melted and the porcelain cups again and again. They helped, just as a reminder of the happier times of his memories.

Somehow even though he was healed, Harry felt like broken into pieces. His chest was numb, his limbs were weak and boneless. He could sit on the bed all day, without moving. Usually in the morning, one house elf would come and begged him to eat, which Harry would taste only bits, half at maximum. He couldn't eat much anymore. And then a healer would come to check him, and Madam Pomfrey would take him to the physical room where he was asked to do some exercise before lunch. Then after lunch another mind healer would come and engaged him in one-to-one two hours therapy session. They would ask him everything, urging him to talk.

Harry didn't want to talk at all. If he talked, then he could accidentally open the Harry's box. So instead, he smiled and be a nice boy and answered the questions with yes, no or silence. The smile was always plastered on his face these days. People always like it better when he smiled. So he did. And the mind healer reduced their sessions from everyday to two days a week. He stated that he felt Harry being too suffocated with the intense therapy, and maybe with the lessened time, Harry would be able to speak out better.

Plop!

Harry turned to see a house elf by the name Wobby stood beside his bed. Harry automatically smiled.

"Good morning, Harry Potter, sir! Would you like your breakfast now?"

Harry nodded to find a full breakfast tray on top of his lap. He woke up slowly and took a slice of bread. The elf encouraged him to take more, but Harry wasn't really hungry. After breakfast he got his usual check up and physical therapy; and lunch passed just like usual. He was required to eat in the Great Hall with his professors. When Harry first came, the professors all fussed about him. Now they was already used to him and left him alone.

Sometimes, one of his professors would ask him for an afternoon with them. Professor Sprout took Harry to her green house one time and showed him her newest addition of mandrake plant. They looked like a really small embryo, looking more like small hazelnuts with leaves. Professor Snape took him to brew another potion from the book, and together they spent one whole afternoon brewing voice changing potion. And that day Hagrid came to him and asked the boy whether Harry wanted to see Fang, his dog. Harry agreed and followed the man to the small hut by the outskirt of the Forbidden Forrest.

* * *

><p>The boy was sitting on the grass with a hand absentmindedly patting the stomach of Fang when suddenly the dog stood up and barked. Harry turned to see a being of half man-half horse stood behind one of the trees.<p>

"Greetings, o human child."

Harry returned the greetings, but he wasn't sure how, so he just responded the best he could.

"Greetings, sir."

"I am called Firenze, and I am a centaur. Please call me by my given name."

Harry nodded. The centaurs stared at him for a long time.

"You are tainted, yet still pure. But your mind is broken, yet not without it strength. I am here to bring you a lady. Her wish to meet you was so great that the stars asked me to bring her here."

And the unicorn Harry saw last time came forward. Harry was stunned. He didn't know he could see the unicorn again. Beside her stood her Foal, now baby bluish in colour. An innocent smile brightened the boy's face. He was glad they could meet again. Harry stood up and came nearer. Firenze, however, stood between them.

"You are not pure enough to come near them, human child. They are here to bid you farewell."

Harry stopped on his place. Another disappointment. His mind was blank, and his chest throbbed. He should have known. He wasn't as pure as he was. He was tainted. His uncle tainted him. His mind tainted him. Harry was useless. And now he needed to say goodbye to the unicorns.

"She wants me to inform you, child, that it is not your fault. They are leaving for a safer place in the forest, and it is not safe for any human, especially human child. They are here to bid farewell. And to thank you for the help you bestowed upon them."

Harry was numb. He couldn't think.

"They hoped you well and you should use the moonstone wisely. Greetings, human child."

With that, Firenze turned back with the unicorns following him. They disappeared among the trees, just in time when tears started dropping on Harry's cheek.

"N…No… Please wait…" he stumbled upon words and he started to run into the woods. Please don't leave him like that. Not now. Please not now. He didn't have anyone else. Please not now. Not now. Not…

"'Arry!" the boy felt two large hands around his body, catching him and preventing him from running into the woods. "You can't go there! It's dangerous!"

The boy didn't recognize the voice; in his mind he was set to run after the unicorn and her foal. They were planning to go somewhere safe, somewhere without human, somewhere peaceful. Like the death Harry always wished for. He wanted to go with them. He didn't mind if they wont let him touch them, just please take him with them. He wanted to go there as well.

"'Arry! 'Arry!"

But the hands around him were so strong. Harry couldn't let them go. And the voice was annoying…

"'Arry! Can ya' hear me?"

Harry turned to see Hagrid looking worriedly at him.

And he didn't know why, but he turned back and hugged the gigantic man, as tight as he could. No. Hagrid was the first man who introduced him to magic. Harry didn't want to lose him as well. Everybody is leaving him one by one. No. Please don't leave him. Please. Please.

"''Arry? Wh't happened?"

"Why? Why does everybody leave me? What is my problem? Why is it my fault? Where did I do wrong? If I can't die, then why nobody tells me where I am doing it wrong? I cannot change without knowing what my problem is! I don't know! Tell me! What should I do?"

The huge man wasn't famous for his agile mind or his communication skill. He was in shocked to see the little boy he liked so much started to cry and wanting to run into the forest. And now the said boy sobbed and talked more than the whole time he had been back in Hogwarts combined. Hagrid missed most of the words that Harry was saying, and he wasn't sure how to respond.

"…er… maybe because you don't do well in your study? Maybe if you study well then it will get better?"

It was very ironic that the words of kind but careless half giant made the Harry Potter changed that day.

* * *

><p>It felt like a door was opened for him. Harry realized that maybe his approach to everything was wrong. Hagrid was an honest man; and he wouldn't lie. So, what Hagrid said was very true: he should study as much as he could. Maybe he would gradually understand what was wrong with him. Maybe by studying, he would understand death, and he would know the best way to achieve it. And maybe by the knowledge he gets after he study, he could make other people think he wasn't useless. And they would like him all over again.<p>

The need to study fuelled his mind. And he started that very night, as he went to the library under the invisibility cloak after dinner, and stayed there for the rest of the night. He somehow managed to create a small light source with his wandless magic, and he noticed that Madame Prince was going to take a brief holiday for two weeks. It was just the perfect timing.

So he stayed in the library all night. Marvolo's advice filled his head—those advise he given Harry when he was still inside Harry's mind—and based on those, Harry chose his starting point. The book on charms and transfiguration were some of the first that Harry read, along with some of the history and potion journals. He also went to search about books with some possible explanation on death; but they were all locked inside the restricted section. And Harry, from the trauma watching his books and robes being burnt by Duddley, refused to borrow some of the books back to read inside his dorm. He preferred to stay in the library to read; because he didn't believe himself to take cares those books.

In the morning, after finished reading quite a number of books, Harry went back to his room and just in time as Wobbly came to offer his breakfast. Taking a slice of bread, harry thanked him and went to the bath. Then the day passed as usual, but after lunch Harry went straight to the library (and even though Madam Prince locked the library room somehow Harry could open it easily by muttering '_Alomohora_!' like Marvolo did the first time they really met). And then he would stay there until dinner, came back after dinner, and then stayed there until the next morning.

Thus, his schedule for the whole summer holiday was set.

* * *

><p>One weekend, Snape decided that the boy needed a fresh air. He observed that the boy came to lunch looking more tired each day, and when he asked why, Harry answered that he got not enough sleep. Snape guessed maybe the child was staying in bed too much for his own good and became agitated. So he decided to take the child for the trip that has been postponed because of everything that happened.<p>

That Sunday noon he asked the child to spend the afternoon with him. He noticed that Albus was looking at them in interest. Harry looked like he wanted to reject the offer, which was a weird thing, but in the end he agreed and the boy smiled back. Snape noticed that Harry kept the smile all the time whenever he thought people were around. And somehow it creep the potion master out.

* * *

><p>The Potion Master noticed that the boy was wearing his ugly muggle clothes back.<p>

"Harry," he asked, "Why are you wearing those again? I thought I have given you better clothes to wear?"

Upon hearing this, Harry turned red and his smile faltered. The boy bit his lips, and looked down. His body started to shake badly, from fear and guilt. He knew the Professor would notice. Especially with the lack of school robes he usually used to hide the fact that he had no more good clothes. He was afraid the Potion Master would get angry if he knew Harry lost Snape's present. So Harry wore his best Duddley's cast off. But it wasn't enough. "I am sorry, professor. Dudley burned them. I am really sorry for being unable to keep them nicely. I am sorry, professor."

"Child…" Snape was mortified, but he wanted to calm the boy down. He kneeled down, both hand resting on Harry's shaky shoulders. The boy refused to look at him. Snape didn't know what to do, because frankly he wasn't good at comforting or with children. So he spoke the truth. "…It is not your fault, Harry. Don't be scared. I am not angry at you."

"You can… whip me, Professor. I failed to take care of the stuffs you bought me. I am sorry."

"That is not your fault, Child. Please believe me."

Harry stopped shaking, slowly looking up. Snape was taken aback when he saw the eyes. It was very haunting. Harry's emerald orbs were dark and dead; as if the child has already given up on everything. There were obvious dark bags underneath his eyes, and Snape noticed how thin the boy was, still. Even after all those rest and nutrition potions.

"Child, do you eat…?"

"Ah, Serverus, Harry! Are you going out?"

Suddenly the headmaster appeared behind them. And Snape was forced to postpone his talk with Harry. Somehow the headmaster ended up successfully invited himself for that trip and the three of them went to Diagon Alley by apparition.

Snape was growling inside his head. The old meddlesome goat! But he couldn't reject the headmaster for the old man looked dead set to have his claws on both him and Harry, especially when he heard where they were going (Snape was forced to speak the truth—he couldn't make the older man to go away).

* * *

><p>They were seated in front of the goblin that was in charge of Potter family's vaults. Harry looked around him, finding the room filled with so many grey magic, all looked strong and unwelcoming. Professor Snape told him that Gringotts was one of the safest places in Britain, and the wards around the bank were the best in the world. Harry realized that maybe all those greyish unwelcoming magic were the wards. He remembered tits and bits about wards from all the books he had been marathon-reading the whole week, and he repeated them inside his head.<p>

The goblin noticed the lack of attention and cleared his throat. Harry returned his attention to see a bowl in front of him, a concave green jade bowl.

"Please put your blood inside this bowl, Mr. Potter."

Harry winced when one of the guard goblins took his hand, pricked Harry's pointing finger with a small blade, and then massaged the finger to obtain three drops of blood. Beside him Professor Snape and Professor Dumbledore were watching intensely.

The bowl glowed green for a while, and it dimmed after five minutes. The goblin looked amused, but he didn't tell anybody why. Well, not the wizards, anyway. They were too stupid and ignorant of magic to understand how significant the glow was. The glow measured how much potential a wizard has. The longer it glowed, the stronger the potential is, and in average, even the most of pureblood only managed three minutes. So five minutes was a really big deal. Yet, again, why should goblins share their knowledge with ignorant wizards?

"The Potter family bowl indicates that you are the heir of Potter." The goblin started his usual speech. "Now, what do you want from us, Lord Potter?"

"Pardon me," Dumbledore spoke out. "As much as I found it very amusing, isn't it too fast to call Harry a Lord? He is not yet an adult, afterall."

The goblin smirked. "We recognize a title not based on minister's law, Mr. Dumbledore. When the bowl glowed, it is enough proof for Gringotts to acknowledge Mr. Harry Potter as the Heir of Potter, and thus, Lord Potter."

Dumbledore bit his lips, but he smiled to show that he was not displeased. Harry ignored the whole thing and watching the bowl in fascination, as the bowl glowed beautifully with his magic. It felt like he was meeting an old family.

Snape, on the other hand, noticed the absurd wish of control Dumbledore wanted to have on Harry. Why was it the case? What was special about the boy that made Dumbledore became this … careless, foolish? Dumbledore was usually good with his subtle manipulation, and not this _obvious_. Snape has a feeling that even the goblin recognized the weird control obsession.

"Lord Potter, I suggest you to listen to your parent's will, if you want to?"

Dumbledore perked up at that. "Ah, Mr. Griphook, I think they left no will…?"

"They have it, actually, and it was supposed to be given to Lord Potter when he is 20 years old under normal condition. However, with both of them passed away when Lord Potter was only 1, the will should be given to Lord Potter straightaway. However, I found your seal, Mr. Dumbledore, on the will of Lord Potter's parents. Your seal said that you don't allow the will to be read to Lord Potter until he is eighteen. Is this right, Mr. Dumbledore?"

Harry turned to the headmaster. He knew that the old man was a liar, but to do that… to actually seal a letter from his parents, the parent he never knew…

"Why, headmaster? Why did you do that?"

Dumbledore was at loss. He didn't know how to answer this question without jeopardizing his 'good position' in Harry's eyes. He still believed that the boy looked up at him as a grandfather.

"I did it because you were so small, Harry. I want to protect you."

Harry refused to listen anymore, and turned to the goblin. "Sir, can I read my parent's letter, then?"

"Certainly, Lord Potter." The goblin smirked. He took a scroll from one of the safe behind his desk and then opened the scroll. The seal melted once the goblin touched the scroll. The goblin then put it in front of Harry. The boy took it, hand a bit shaking.

His parents, who died from drunk-driving, had actually left him a letter. A will. Whatever, it was the same. The last message. Maybe they would tell him why his parents left him alone. Maybe it would tell Harry what his parents expected from him. Maybe the letter would tell him what they felt about Harry.

Wishing the best and preparing for the worst disappointment, Harry opened the scroll.

A voice suddenly filled the room. actually, there were two voices.

"_To our dearest Harry, if you are listening to this script, maybe we are both dead or maybe we are enjoying ourselves in Caribbean. Yeah, Potter family has a villa there. It is all yours, son. By the way, no, we are not joking. Now, you are either of age or ready to be the head of Potter family. It's just the war is coming to a peak and we are quite worried about you should something happened to us. Ok, back to topic, I, James Potter, bequeathed all these possessions for the people listed: _

_A tenth of my private fault for Peter Pettigrew. You should totally use it to improve you look, old rat. _

_A quarter of my private fault to Remus Lupin. Moony, take it. Don't fight it. You need it, trust me. _

_Another tenth of my private fault for Sirius Black. You don't need my money, Sirius. You have enough on your own. Just use this to pamper my son will you?_

_A tenth of my private fault for Albus Dumbledore. You had been a very good mentor, but a very manipulative one. I request you to take care of my son and not taking advantage of him._

_And the rest are for my Harry. Also, he should inherit the main Potter vault, the branch Potter vaults in various countries like Italy and Egypt, which I don't know the details about. I was sure we had around 20 vaults all over the world, but the number might be wrong. You should ask Gringotts Harry. Ah, and then the entire Potter's inheritance, power as well as artefact. I know you would know how to use the invisibility cloak well. You also inherit the Potter Mansion, two castles up north and some villas. I suggest you come with us to the Caribbean. I bet you'll find it heavenly. But just don't disturb me and your mother while we are making your siblings… "_

Suddenly a smack sound could be heard. _"Don't listen to your father, dear."_ Another female, gentler voice spoke. Snape went rigid. He knew the voice very well. _"I, Lily Evans-Potter, rest all my belongings with people listed below: _

_Firstly, Petunia Dursley, a sum of ten thousand galleons. _

_My potion journals, books and notes as well as half my vault are to be given to Serverus Snape. _

_The rest are for my dearest son, Harry James Potter. _

_And we have agreed that should something happen to us, then the custody and guardianship should be passed to either Sirius Black, or Severus Snape. "_

A whiny, _I hate that smelly git!_ Was heard, but then a smack sound followed.

"_Harry, please take care and please remember we love you so much. You were the best thing we ever had. We wish the very best for you, our baby." _

The scroll rolled itself back. The voices disappeared. Snape snapped back into reality with the loss of Lily's voice, just to see the heartbreaking view in front of him.

The boy was shaking, but slowly pulling the scroll into his hand. Then he clutched the roll onto his chest tightly. The boy's face was hidden under his hairs, but his hands were clearly shaking hard. And Snape could see silent tears dropping from the boy's cheeks. Slowly dropping down, wetting his arms. But the boy didn't move. He didn't even breathe normally, as if he was just relieving everything again, absorbing every single message his parents gave him. The boy breathed in and out slowly, as if it was hard. And tears continued to go down his cheek.

And when Snape turned to see the old man Dumbledore (who was looking at Harry's reaction as well), he saw the obvious pain and guilt in the man's dimmed blue eyes.

* * *

><p>It was hard to breathe. His face was blocked with tears.<p>

His parents loved him.

They loved him.

They did.

He was truly happy. They… They loved him. They didn't hate him. They were happy he was born. He was wanted. Harry James Potter was a proud son of James and Lily Potter. They had wanted him. They wanted the best for him. They loved him so much. He was the best thing that ever had to his parent.

He was wanted.

It was getting hard to breathe.

His box slowly opened. The memory of watching the 'normal' enjoying their dinner filled his mind. His four year old self was so jealous of Duddley because his parents loved him so much. It was when he was still small enough and didn't understand that he wasn't a part of the family. He watched as his uncle and aunts smiled over Duddley and praised their 4 years old son. They said that Duddley was the best son in the world, that they had wanted Duddley so much. Harry watched in jealousy from the corner of the room. He wasn't allowed to sit on the dining chair. His place was on the floor, and his plate was in front of him. He had asked why he couldn't sit on the chair. Why they don't fuss over him. Why his uncle and aunt only paid attention to Duddley. He was rewarded with slaps. And chores. And being called worthless freak. They said he was alone because nobody wanted him. They said Harry should be thankful he was given food for he was just a burden.

No, now he knew that his parents wanted him. He could replace Duddley with his own image, imagining everything. In the place of Aunt and Uncle, there was his Mom and Dad. They were all around him, fussing and praising him, telling him that they loved him so. They gave him food, they loved him. They would take him to the zoo, they would give him food everyday, they would remember his birthday and gave him congratulations, and maybe some presents. They would sing Happy Birthday for him. because they were glad he was born. And then they would happily spend time together in the living room, watching TV and laughed at the silly cartoon or listening to the songs or went picnic together. His parents would give him everything he ever wished for, and he would be so happy.

So … happy.

So very happy.

But his imagination was just a dream. His parents would never be there. They were gone. Nobody stepped into their place, to love and protect Harry. Harry has lost most of his friends. He was truly alone now. He had lost the only people who loved him to death.

Death.

_Fascinating_.

* * *

><p>Snape realized that he couldn't just wait until Harry recollected himself back, so he stepped forward.<p>

"From the will, it seemed that the custody of Lord Potter should be given to either Sirius Black or myself. Since Sirius Black is clearly unsuitable to take care of Harry Potter, I, Serverus Snape come forward to claim the custody and guardianship."

The goblin nodded. He couldn't help but feel a bit, just a bit, pity over the child who was clutching the scroll as if it was all the gold in the world. The tears were sincere and painful to watch. "So mote it be. Lord Potter guardianship is transferred to you as we speak. So we need to show you every past transaction, list and details of Potter vaults."

"Please continue." Snape asked. And then he realized Dumbledore became alert back and returned his attention to Snape.

"Since eleven years ago, some transaction has been made. Firstly was by Albus Dumbledore, who acted as a magical proxy for Lord Potter. Albus Dumbledore took a magical artefact from James Potter's personal fault. And we noted that he also took a regular two thousand galleons per year. Another annual fee was withdrawn from Lord Potter's trust fund under the name of Hogwarts' fee starting from last year. Lastly, one withdrawal was made by Lord Potter himself last year, and also some sum was transferred as St. Mungo's fee."

Snape turned to Dumbledore in rage. He then turned back to the goblin. "How many has Albus Dumbledore taken from Potter's vault?"

"Based on my calculation," the goblin looked at the paper, "He had taken three quarters of the amount of money bequeathed to him by the late Lord James Potter. With the next two year annual transfer, the amount should fill up the will. Do you wish to continue transferring money to Albus Dumbledore afterward?"

Snape hissed. "Stop it when it filled his quota; and no more than that should ever be given to Albus Dumbledore anymore: my ward has never given authority to him to ever take anything. I requested Albus Dumbledore to return the artefact he had taken, as well as to never meddle with Harry James Potter's inheritance anymore. So mote it be."

"So mote it be." The goblin nodded. A golden glow formed between the three: Snape, Harry and the bank. Dumbledore grimly aware that if he tried to meddle here, Snape and Gingotts has all the rights to bring him to Winzengamot. With his current standing being under reviewed, Dumbledore couldn't afford another scandal.

Snape then kneeled in front of Harry. The boy was still clutching the scroll near to his heart. Snape grimed sadly and slowly trailed his finger on Harry's wet cheek. The boy twitched, but looked up to Snape. They watched each other closely.

"Harry, from now on, I am your guardian. I will be your protector as well as your teacher. I will do my best to guide and protect you."

Harry was still silent. His disbelieve was clear on his wet eyes.

"Harry… Would you listen to me? I promise on my magic that I would never hurt you purposely."

The boy finally nodded. Snape let a relieved sighed. He slowly rubbed the boy's cheek gently, wiping off the tear streaks. Harry blushed, feeling embarrassed for he was crying like hell, and managed to stop his tears. He paid more attention after that: they went through his inheritance, his assets and his powers. Harry didn't understand half of it, but Snape looked like wanting to faint everytime the Goblin mentioned another power. And then when the vaults were mentioned, Harry was informed that he has 23 vaults that was actively gathering investment revenue, while another 4 were quite dormant and frankly better to be closed down before being taken over by the local government.

Finally it was over and Harry was ushered to his vault. Harry went into his father's personal vault, and he saw even more gold than what he had in his own trust vault. But it wasn't very attractive to him; he was more intrigued by the objects inside, such as the tomes and books. He took some of the books and put it inside his bottomless money pouch. He then took some galleons for his school stuff shopping.

Sadly, he couldn't bring the scroll out from Gringotts, but Harry replayed the message again and again in his head:

"_Harry, please take care and please remember we love you so much. You were the best thing we ever had. We wish the very best for you, our baby." _

And for the first time in weeks, Harry could sincerely smile.

* * *

><p>TBC.<p>

I have tried my best to provide update as fast as I can, as reliable as I can. I think I deserve a pat in the back? More fave/ pm/ reviews please?


	10. Chapter 10

Sorry for the late update. Holidays doesnt go along with writing muse. why is it that everytime I have exams my muse come and when i am in holiday with plenty of time to write, nothing came out?

Thank you so much for the reviews and this chapter is longer by 2,000 words compared to others.

Enjoy!

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><p>Lucius Malfoy was a Slytherin in and out.<p>

Since he was small, Lucius Malfoy has always been fascinated by beauty and power. He loves anything that was beautiful. He respects power and aspires to be one of the most powerful. His father, Abraxas Malfoy, was not famous for his kind heart. He was more famous over his sick tendencies, and it was a public secret that his wife always seen with bruises on her pale skin. Being the son of such a sadist made his childhood filled with brutal reality of violence and power. One thing Abraxas Malfoy had done was to make sure his heir understand that power is control. And being in control means a step closer to Godhood. Thus, the love affair between Lucius and power was born.

Naturally, he was sorted into the house of Pureblood: Slytherin. He was naturally blessed with charm and elegance from his Malfoy blood; but his power and his view made him more popular than ever. He became a sort of leader in Slytherin when he stayed in Hogwarts. After finishing Hogwarts, his father anointed him to be his right hand man. Together they maintained the good name of Malfoy family as well as getting the ministry under their political control.

It was then when he met a very charismatic and enchanting man, whom called himself Voldemort. The man explained to him that he was there to return the pureblood society as well as the forgotten dark arts into the current pathetic Wizarding society. Abraxas was enthralled by Lucius' new associate and together they followed the charismatic man. The man oozed black magic power and both of Malfoys were attracted to it like a moth attracted to fire. Thus, they became the inner circle of Death Eaters, along with other purebloods family heads with the same aim.

Not longer after that, Voldemort turned into some sort of dictator. His leadership style was based on fear and punishment, something that was not really acceptable for Lucius. When Abraxas was killed by one of the aurors in one of their death eater attacks, Lucius realized that he was following the wrong man for the first time. Lucius was forced to be the head of Malfoy family, yet honestly, he found himself too young for inheriting the title. He needed some time to adjust, yet Voldemort didn't give him any time to rest and control his estate. They were in the peak of war and the snake lover man wouldn't let his inner circle Death Eaters worked away from him. Moreover, the dark mark has bound him to Voldemort, who now demanded people to call him a 'Lord'. Lucius laughed behind the man; but in front of Voldemort, he showed the outmost respect for he still loves his life.

On the same time, he acquired a fiancée born into the noble house of Black due to his inheritance. Narcissa Black was a beautiful woman with will as strong as iron and quite powerful magical core. Both aspects suited Lucius' criteria and within a month, they were married. Within another three months, their first child was conceived. Lucius felt strange, since he believed he wouldn't have any feelings toward his children: his father has shown him that Abraxas never loved him as a son; and naturally Lucius believed it was the way a Malfoy supposed to be raised. Lucius himself believed that he was incapable of loving his offspring. They were just to continue bloodline after all.

But Narcissa made him feel love towards his first child; and when Draco was born, Lucius Malfoy cried for the first time in his adult life. The baby boy was so small; Lucius could crush him with his bare hands. It was powerless, weak and defenceless yet Lucius couldn't bring himself to harm or let any other harm fell onto his baby. When he put his face closer, he saw two grey eyes watching him intensely. Lucius felt each breath his small son gave away on his own cheek. Narcissa watched them in adoration. She knew something in Draco has change Lucius.

And that's why she was happy when the Dark Lord 'died' on that Halloween Night. The crazy dictator was getting truly evil and looked like a snake more than a man. Narcissa always excessively worried abut her family because of Lucius' connection as a inner circle Death Eater. Lucius took care of them nicely, claiming that he served the man under Imperius curse. He was freed from all charges and thus, he continued to be the puppeteer behind the veil. The current minister was under his control, so perfect that Lucius knew he was already at the top of the top: he was in control of Ministry of Magic, hence the Britain Magical World.

Now, he needed to severe everything that might connect him to the dead Dark Lord. The dark mark was concealed with the strongest charm, but he knew it was futile. Aside from that, he acquired some cursed artefact from the man; so he threw them all away. He had burned all of them except a diary. The innocent looking diary possessed the darkest magic compared to all other. No matter how he tried, the diary returned to his hand, in perfect condition.

It was a coincidence. He was taking the diary to Gringotts, so that he could put it inside one of the useless vaults Malfoy family had in the Goblin bank. He had long given up destroying the diary, and maybe it was best to keep it somewhere safe. And on that day, he met his closest acquaintance, borderline friend, Serverus Snape and a small boy called Harry Potter.

* * *

><p>When Snape confronted Dumbledore about the artefact he took from James Potter's vault, the old headmaster replied that he had returned it to Harry as a Christmas present. The Potter estate goblin manager scowled when he heard this, and explained that it couldn't be counted as 'returning' when the said thing was presented as a 'gift'. The goblin further stated that if Dumbledore didn't return one artefact on similar values, then Gringotts have the right to bring the matter to Winzengamot, or worse, taken a part of Dumbledore's magical core as a fine.<p>

The old man went pale after that, and he explained that he needed sometime to 'prepare' other gift with similar value of Potter family's Invisibility Cloak. Harry watched the whole thing indifferently, for he didn't really care. He knew it wasn't a gift from his headmaster. Marvolo had told him before. Thinking back, Marvolo was right about almost everything. And he missed Marvolo so much. In the end, Harry hid his sadness behind his usual smile and instead focused on the memory of his parents' will.

Dumbledore excused himself and went away after that; Snape let him go with disgust. Now that he knew the extension of cunningness of Dumbledore's, he started to wonder how much of that man's persona was actually true. Maybe all these time he also manipulated Snape in some ways or the other. Noting to self so that he wouldn't blindly follow the man next time, he proceeded to Diagon Alley with Harry. The boy needed so many new stuffs: from clothes and food to self care products, and maybe a broom.

They met Lucius Malfoy when they were half way through their shopping spree. By that time, Harry's arms were filled with so many stuffs: shrunken new clothes, new cauldron, another set of potion ingredients as well as some self-care products (like hair brush, towels and underwear). They were planning to go to the Flourish and Botts, the bookshop. Even though the Hogwarts letter for new semester hasn't arrive as yet, Snape knew which book he required for second year potion and maybe he could coax the boy into studying with him for the reminder of the summer holiday.

Serverus and Lucius exchanged their usual greetings masked by sarcasm. After a while, they decided to get a lunch together in one of the eatery in Diagon Alley. Harry was fascinated by the blond pureblood: He looked exactly like an older carbon copy of Draco. And the man felt like power. Harry could feel some kind of power from Lucius, although he couldn't see Lucius' aura like he could see on Snape. Harry decided that maybe each wizard is different. Harry could see auras on some of them while he could sense the aura on the others. And their magical power level depends on how clear it was for Harry to sense. He could see and feel that both Lucius Malfoy and Serverus Snape were two of the strongest wizards in the room.

* * *

><p>Lucius apparated straight into Malfoy's mansion great hall. Usually his wife welcomed him with a hug and a kiss on the cheek when there was no guest, so when Lucius saw how prim and proper Narcissa was welcoming him, he knew they were having some guests at the mansion.<p>

His wife bowed politely and showed him to his guest room. Lucius followed and what he saw betrayed him: the man sitting on the couch while drinking wine was a blonde, idiot liar. The blonde guy who won five times the silliest contest of 'the best smile' in witch weekly magazine was sitting on his couch, drinking his wine. Lucius' anger soared, but he calmly hid it behind his impassive face. His wife grabbed his hand gently and went away, closing the door behind her. It was only Lucius and the guest now, and frankly the Malfoy patriarch didn't feel like welcoming a guest of 'that' level.

"May I know why I have the honour of having you in my ancestor house?" Lucius asked coldly, yet still polite.

The man stood up, and suddenly the room was filled with familiar power. Lucius unconsciously took a step back. He knew this power. He was attracted to _this_ power. The man turned to see him, and Lucius could see clearly the face of Gilderoy Lockhart. But gone was the silliness and self importance oozed by the original man; now he emanated power and confident. _Control_.

"Luciusss…" The man hissed. The blonde idiot looked really menacing; his eyes were red with split pupils. "It's been ssso long…"

Lucius Malfoy gulped down, fighting the urge to run away from the man. But he was trapped inside his own mansion.

Pathetic.

And here he thought he finally was free from the evil dictator's control. Lucius bowed down as low as possible.

"My Lord."

* * *

><p>Harry followed the professor in front of him. After their shopping trip and lunch affair, the potion professor took him down to his quarter, in the dungeon. It was summer, but the dungeon felt as cool as ever.<p>

They entered the professor's room and Harry was surprised to see a new door on the wall. He knew there wasn't a door there when he was in Professor Snape's quarter last time.

"That is your room, Child. I am your guardian now; so in holidays and weekend you are welcome to use that room, but you need to stay in your dorm when the semester commence."

Harry nodded, but he was confused. The Potion Master saw the confused look and he kneeled down to level his eyes with Harry's.

"You are now my ward; I will do my best to guide and protect you. I will also provide home for you. Since I planned on staying in Hogwarts this summer holiday, I can only provide you with a room in my quarter. If you don't like it, you can go back to your dorm, Harry."

The boy shook his head. He knew he would be ungrateful if he objected the offer. He just stared dumbly at the door. Snape gave him a bit of a push, urging him to open.

"See for yourself, child. You can decorate it however you like. But I won't accept combustible or loud decoration, so chose wisely."

Harry was amazed by the sheer size of the room. It was tenth times his cupboard under the stairs (he was sure that he would live in a similar cupboard under Snape's guardianship. After all, why would the man spent more than he should on him? Harry wasn't his child or anything. Moreover, he was kind of a burden. Snape was not his parent; so he has no obligation to care for Harry). In the middle of it was a four posters bed with soft curtains hanging around it. A small table and a comfortable chair by the corner followed by two book racks that was half filled; as if the professor wanted Harry to fill it in himself. Also, there was a built in wardrobe on the other side, with a huge mirror beside it.

"I am not sure what you like, but I suggest the colour pale blue. Colours have a subtle magic, and warm colours give you boost of emotions, while pastel calms you. For a bedroom, calming is always better."

Harry nodded. He was still struck in awe of his room. His first ever room. His own room.

Life suddenly looked better than ever.

* * *

><p>His holiday was filled with so many things that harry lost track of.<p>

In the first few days he busied himself to decorate his room. Harry filled the room with little he had: the new clothes were tidied up inside the wardrobe; his school books filled some of the empty spaces on the book racks. The chocolate frog and the mug were placed on the table, nicely beside his school supplies while Hedwig's owl stand stood beside the chair.

Harry found a small black book in the middle of his purchase. It was written as the property of T. M. Riddle. When he saw that the pages were empty, Harry suddenly filled with the urge to write something on it. However, his conscience warned him before he did anything to the book. Harry would never dare to use anything that was not given to him, simply because he was trained from the Dursley. Duddley always played that to Harry: leaving his broken toys around, making Harry thought that Duddley didn't want it anymore so Harry would take it, and then Duddley would cry to his father saying Harry stole and broken his toys. Or Aunt Petunia asking him what he wanted for dinner just to say that he wouldn't get it because Harry didn't do the chores perfectly or Harry was not worthy enough for a dinner. So, despite the compulsion to write something in the book, he let it slide and put the book beside the other textbooks on the rack.

He followed his professor's advice and chose pale blue as the wall colour. Wobby helped him coloured the room with a snap of his finger. Harry was amazed, and he made the elves taught him how to do it. In the end, Harry felt like old times when he could talk to the elf without being awkward. It was his first step, and Wobby invited him back to the kitchen. Harry took the offer and now kitchen felt like his second home. He went there between lunch and dinner, spending time washing the dishes and chat with the elves. Most of them accepted him back with open hands, but several elves took his eagerness to help as an insult, and they mostly ignored him. Harry couldn't help it and let it slide, knowing that he couldn't make everybody happy.

He also followed the study regime the professor gave him; from his determination to make the professor happy as well as his own curiosity. His professor seemed determine to make up for his stunted magical education, and Harry was taught the basic that all purebloods and halfblood children were taught since they were small. It was simple things like differentiating magical creatures, herbs and plants; how to prepare potions ingredients; all the simple charms like shrinking his things and returned it to the actual size, how to write nicely with the quill and ink, photocopy spells, incantation to make the light on or off and other simple household charms. Snape overlooked the fact that Harry wasn't allowed to do magic. Harry pretended he didn't know either. But he really enjoyed his lessons with his professor.

They always had lessons after dinner. The man was a cold man, but he was caring and strict. Somehow it made Harry calm when he was near the man. And then, when Snape let him go to his room to sleep, Harry took his Invisible Cloak and headed for another late-nighter in the library.

By now, Harry was very fascinated about the _aspects_ of death. He was already in love with the notion of death, but now he needed to know what 'death' actually is. He listed the facts that people who died would never return to the living realm. Their body decomposed, and their souls were lost. But there were also ghosts in Hogwarts, so there should be some sort of gate where people who died needed to cross or otherwise stuck with their soul inside the living realm. It brought question of where were the other realms. What was the gate? Could the souls behind the gate passed back though to the living realm and vice versa? Could the souls in 'death' realm understand what happened in the living realm?

Most of the books he read on stated that death is a speculation between three states: resurrection, reincarnation and oblivion. It simply stated that death is a state where a soul can continue, whether it would be resurrect (living as a soul forever, hence, ghost); reincarnate (being born in another body, hence déjà vu and pseudo memories) or oblivion (the state where nothing matters anymore and nothing could be done or memorized—because there was no physical mass to contain the information, i.e. that it doesn't have living brain to remember stuff, for example).

On the other hand, if 'death' is a state, then could a person prevent his own death? With the body that is programmed to decay as soon as they were born? And why people die? What is the difference between the physical body and the soul? Are they really different? And where does magic comes into?

Could he actually bypass the death and met his parents?

The more he got into it; Harry found that 'death' was even more fascinating than ever. He followed some old books in the small corner of the library that touches the dead realm, and most of the books mentioned Necromancy, the art of communicating with the dead. Interestingly, it was one of the arts that caused the Witch Hunt in the 15th to 18th century. They also touch about ritual magic and the origin of magic. There was also another ritual magic branch called enochian magic, which aimed was similar to Necromancy. And all those were developed for the sole purpose of divination. However, Harry felt that Necromancy is not only for divination and communication. Somehow it also connects the relationship between death and the living; and the boy sensed that to understand death, he needed to learn Necromancy.

With his eleven years-almost twelve old minds, all these subjects were heavy and soon Harry found himself going deeper and deeper into speculation without proof. Also, he noticed that most of the necromancy references were kept in the restricted section of the library. With his Invisibility Cloak, he could get into the restricted section; however the book themselves are spelled and some of them screamed when Harry tried to take them out of the rack. Harry quickly placed them back and run out from the library, and for the first time in that week, he returned to his room before dawn.

His power returned as the day passed, and ever since he was personally taught by Professor Snape, Harry started to realize that showing his real affinity to magic was not a bad thing. His professor slash guardian was speechless when he saw what Harry could do with his wand—Harry hadn't show him his ability of wandless magic—especially when he saw Harry turned a rock into a puppy. Although the puppy only stayed for half an hour before turning back into a rock, it was still amazing because the transfiguration was OWL level. Snape actually praised him for it, so Harry started to get creative with his magic. Then Snape started to teach him about defensive as well as offensive hexes and jinxes.

Harry's days were so intense that sometimes he forgot that he needed his sleep. More often than not, he continued to force himself to study and read through the library's books all night; and in daylight he followed the physical therapy regime as well as socializing with the house elves. His magic sustained his body for the week, but by the end of the week, Harry was obviously tired and restless. All he wanted to do was to sleep but he seemed like never having time for it. Harry replayed the last message from his parents again and again in his head, to keep himself going. Yes, he wanted to meet his parents so much. They were the only ones who loved him. If Harry could do it, he could meet them again and thanked them for their love. So Harry needed to hang in there and be more focused on his study, just like Hagrid said.

* * *

><p>"...So if you add aconite into the potion, it will turn acidic. You can test the acidity by putting a splint of tea tree branch into the potion… Harry, are you listening to me?"<p>

The boy looked up, his eyes showed obvious sign of exhaustion. Snape grimaced. He knew something was wrong. The boy looked like he got not enough sleep. But he always made sure that the boy slept in controlled schedule suitable for children of his age. What happened?

"Harry, why are you so tired?"

The boy shook his head. "No sir, I am not tired."

"Do you sleep well? Are you really alright?" Snape asked, and unconsciously slipped into the boy's mind with Legilimency. But he was met with the usual wall, and he couldn't slip in.

Snape let it slide. Harry was grateful for it and tried to focus. His eyes were quite blurry and dry. His head hurt so badly. But he couldn't stop to rest. He needed to do this. He needed to be smart and perfect for everyone to like him. He needed to do the therapy; he needed to help the elves; he needed to focus on the lesson with his professor, and he needed to continue to study the books in the library because it was the only way people would accept him. People would only like him if they made them happy, because Harry doesn't have a family that would accept him as what he was. He should make people proud. He should make others happy. He should do everything that others asked him for.

And it wasn't like study was bad after all. He learned so much stuff in days since he started to focus on his study. His research on death was going well and his lesson with Professor Snape was progressing fine. He made friends with so many elves and the healers from St Mungo didn't look so sad anymore when Harry finally able to do some of the physical exercises in the therapy session. They smiled when he smiled. They were happy when Harry did whatever they asked. So he needed to do it perfectly.

That night he went to the library as usual, finding his usual spot under behind the racks of Herbiology section. Surprisingly, his research on death and potion brought him to poison and dreadful herbs. He continued from last night, but somehow the words just didn't make sense…

His eyes went black; his body slumped onto the floor. Harry James Potter reached his limit and fainted under his Invisibility Cloak.

* * *

><p>The next morning, Snape was awoken by a visit from a panicked house elf.<p>

"Harry Sir is gone, Snape Sir!"

Snape quickly woke up and went to the child's room to find the bed empty and cold as if it wasn't used last night. He knew it, something must be wrong with the child.

"Can you ask other elves to spread and search for Harry?"

"Yes sir, of course, sir!" the elf bowed and apparated out from the room. Snape meanwhile looking around, trying to find clue of whereabouts Harry might be that morning.

He opened the cupboard to see only a quarter of the whole space occupied. He grimaced. He never realied Harry owned that little of clothes. The trunk took majority of filled space. And then he looked around to find nothing childlike in the room. Nothing personal. It was just a chocolate frog and a mug on top of the table that showed the room belongs to someone named 'Harree Pottery'.

Snape promised himself he should take the child out shopping more often.

And then he remembered about the Potter heirloom Invisibility Cloak. Upon searching, he found that it was missing as well. Snape's suspicion increased now; maybe Harry took his Invisibility Cloak either to hide or do something elsewhere.

He went out and found the elf he ordered just now looking at him in big eyes.

"Harry sir is in the library sir! Between the book cases! But he is Invisible, sir!"

Snape quickly followed the elf and went to library. He found Harry sleeping beneath the Cloak. He looked peaceful and serene, almost death like. Snape almost had a heart attack when he though Harry died. He checked Harry's pulse and was relieved to find it still in the borderline of normal. Beside Harry were books on herbs and poison. Snape immediately knew the child was up to something, doing research like this until he collapsed. He needed to teach the child how to maintain his health once Harry woken up. He sighed in relief and went to check the other stuff. The boy looked like he hadn't get sleep for days. Nor he ate that much.

Snape grimaced. He had asked the house elf and he told him how little Harry actually ate. The boy seemed to hate his food, and ate something just out of politeness to house elves for making him any food. Also, the boy felt restless; as if he was trying to do everything at once. It was clear that Harry didn't know how to take care of himself; for no one ever taught him how to do it.

Everybody—like Dumbeldore, the whole wizarding world—expected so much from the child, or simply ordered him to (like the Dursley) and Harry continuously suffered from it. Maybe he, Serverus Snape, also had driven the boy to this state by constantly expecting Harry to achieve more. He decided to reduce their lesson time and let the child have more free evenings.

He gently took the child to Harry's room, deciding that infirmary might not be the best place for Harry and tucked him in. Harry still weighted less than what he should. The boy looked older with hollow cheek and dark rings under his eyes. He looked depressed and stressed.

Snape's chest clenched in guilt. He had once hated the guts out of this child because of old prejudice and past memories. The boy looked like James Potter, his school tormentor. He refused to evaluate the child, and with stereotype, it was easy to see Harry's similarity to James Potter: the hair, the built, the glasses. Snape refused to see the eyes behind the glasses, those green orbs that showed vulnerability Lily had.

When the child came to him for detention, Snape was busy finding the similarity between the evil spawn and his father. But after finding out what had actually happened with Harry—a childhood full of abuse that even upstage his own childhood trauma—Snape felt shameful. He still berated himself on why he fetched Harry too late. The child was already broken when he came—hiding behind Invisibility Cloak with half face hidden under swollen scar tissues showed how Harry had given up on everything and wished to disappear. It was just luck that the boy still didn't have the thought of killing himself. The boy was still under impression that he couldn't bring death upon himself—something that Harry unconsciously learnt from his fast healing ability. Snape was lucky that Harry was so broken he forgot to kill himself. The irony.

He closed the door behind him, now determined to protect the child more than ever. He could only apologize by protecting Harry from now on—the boy needed an adult to depend on, and Snape would want to be the adult for all that's worth. But with Dumbledore and the Dark Lord in the equations, it wouldn't be as simple as it sounds like.

* * *

><p>Year two started like normal, or however normal a school of magic could be.<p>

Harry was berated by the Professor when he woke up—and since then, Professor Snape kind of check his room every midnight and randomly at dawn, so Harry couldn't sneak into the library again. He started sleeping and it was actually good for his health. After three days, his appetite kind of returned, although the bitter taste and slimy feeling from his uncle's seed still linger in his throat. Professor Snape ordered him to eat breakfast together, and the Potion Master took every opportunity to feed him and making sure he swallowed what he bite.

He changed his schedule and started to borrow out library's books. Harry overcome his fear of destroying anything that he borrowed by making sure that the books all stayed safe inside his room. His research on death progressed slower than it was before. But Professor Snape made up for the loss by teaching him even more elaborate potions or spells. The physical therapy was getting more intense, since Harry broke almost all his limbs. His muscle were just repaired, and although he had his healing ability, the muscles and nerves sometimes connected to another wrong side/end and caused a bit of disruption in control. In such, Harry needed the therapy because he needed to regain perfect control of his limbs.

His birthday passed just like that—Harry didn't realize it was his birthday when he woke up to see a small pile of presents by his bed side. Still, because he forgot his own birthday, Harry ignored the pile and went to breakfast as usual with Professor Snape. He was then reminded of his birthday by the professor. And he went to open his present: two potions books from his professor, a pocket watch from Blaise, a very sharp looking dagger from the house elves (They loved to give him weird presents) as well as some sweets from his Slytherin dorm mates. Professor Snape informed him that he got more present than he saw, but they were all fro random people and his 'fans', so the presents were under quarantine and some house elves were texting each items sent to make sure it wasn't curse or bad for Harry.

Harry was amazed by the sheer number of present he got. He got 4 presents! Amazing! Never in his life had he any present before. His parents must be proud. He basked in the happiness for the whole day. Then his professor took him for a school supply shopping in Diagon Alley. Harry got his new set of textbook as well as potion ingredients, before he got treated ice cream by the professor. It was his first ice cream outings ever and he thanked his professor for that.

And his good mood continued until the Great Feast on the day every student returned to Hogwarts.

Blaise greeted him and together they sat on the second year place in Slytherin table. Marcus Flinch (which surprisingly, never graduated) came to Harry and told him that Seeker tryouts will be held in the first weekend, so Harry should come with his broom. Harry said he didn't have a broom, but Draco Malfoy stepped in and lent his broom to Harry. The sorting went well and they got a bunch of new Slytherins. Harry returned to his dorm with his mates and found that his stuffs were already inside his dorm wardrobe.

The next day classes started. To Harry's surprise, he got a lot of greetings from students he never knew, or the ones ignoring him before. The story of his abuse was the hottest gossips for weeks, and the students who fancy themselves as 'educated' because they read the gossip magazines all felt like knowing Harry so well. They talked to him and passed on their pity, their worry, their 'love' to him and try to 'encourage' him by saying pseudo-inspirational advices.

Blaise, who was with him for the whole day, felt so angry by the end of the day. He saw how Harry was treated last year and how people hypocritically pretended that they didn't bully/ignore Harry. It irritated him how some students even pretended like they knew Harry so well as if they had been his best friends. One little Gryffindor named Colin Creevey actually stalked Harry and snapped everything with his muggle camera. Even Blaise could see how uncomfortable that was for Harry.

Harry mostly took it as it came. He thanked all of them and smiled adorably. Unbeknown to him, it made everybody around him wanted to protect the petite boy. His Slytherin mates started to protect Harry—hiding him from the attention from masses—by giving wrong direction to people, kept Harry safe inside their common room, or sitting around him so that other students would not go too near to Harry.

And Harry, being Harry, was oblivious to the attention and protection. His mind was too wrapped in his death research and studies to realize what happened around him. Professor Snape has told his Slytherin Snakes that Harry was now his ward; and he expected them to treat Harry better than they used to. Thus, Harry potter started his protected second year at Hogwarts in a blissful obliviousness.

* * *

><p>In his first Transfiguration class, Harry found the black book in his bag. He didn't know how the book ended up there, but since he forgot to bring some extra parchments, he opted to use the book, just for one page, to write the notes on the board. Surely one page wouldn't hurt.<p>

After he finished writing, suddenly the ink disappeared.

_Hi, my name is Tom Riddle. Are you a second year student, taking transfiguration? _

Harry was shocked and he quickly closed the book. Blaise noticed it and asked what happened; Harry shook his head and opened the book again.

The words were still there, but his notes were gone.

So Harry wrote: 'I am sorry for using your book. I just need to write some notes and I don't bring any parchment with me. May I please get my notes back? I promise I won't write in this book again.'

The words disappeared, and suddenly his notes were back. Harry as surprised and he found a note by the end.

_Please don't be silly. Of course you can use this book for notebook. I have charmed this book to hold as many information as possible, and you can retreated them afterwards. _

Harry smiled. 'Thank you very much. You must be very good with charm to be able to do something special like this. It is very convenient. Thank you again for letting me to use the book.'

_You are welcome. _

Harry felt something familiar with the book. Something he knew and the way the book replied felt a bit like someone he knew so well. But he wasn't sure who, and why. Yet he had his class to pay attention to and soon he was busy using the notes and transfigured his cup into a teapot by his first try. He won fifteen points to Slytherin for that. And somehow, it made Ron Weasley's scowled at him deeper.

* * *

><p>The notebook proved to be more useful than he thought. Harry brought it almost everywhere in the next two days, and he filled it in with notes from his classes. Sometimes the notebook would comment and told him a better way to achieve the spellsmaking the potions/ etc. Interestingly, the book seemed always right. Blaise commented on how Harry always wrote on the same book, and Harry told him about how the book can hold countless information. Blaise was a bit curious about it, stating that a book with self-conscious might be a dangerous artefact. Harry rejected the idea and promised Blaise that it would be fine. He was fine and so far the book had helped him a lot.

Sometimes the book even asked him about everyday stuff, or about what happened in the last decades and Harry gladly written down everything he knew: the Dark Lord Voldemort, his death and the returned peace to wizarding world. But since the boy didn't believe in his role as the Dark Lord's vanquisher, he didn't write anything about it, as well as telling the book that his parents died of an accident. But they loved him and he got a will. The book soothed him after that and didn't ask about Harry's parent anymore. It was in moments like those the book really reminded Harry of Marvolo. But of course he didn't tell anyone about it.

When Harry started to write down his 'death' research, the book suddenly shook a bit and it commented.

_I never know you are this fascinated by death._

And they started to discuss about death and its property: Harry was surprised that the book also knew most of the thing he had research in the library. The book also expressed his surprise at how good Harry's knowledge about death was. Then the book started to tell him about necromancy and magical ritual concerning death. Harry drunk the information as fast as he could, and he didn't realize that he had lost a whole night learning the basic of necromancy theory from the book.

The next day he looked tired and haggard. Blaise tried to make him go to the infirmary, but Harry smiled and said he was fine. It was their first DADA class, and students before them said that the professor was awesome.

They entered the room to see that the defence room was filled with many dummies and objects which Harry could feel some dark magic from. The professor seemed to notice straightaway his presence in the room, as he snapped his head to see Harry. Harry looked up to see a man, probably in his late twenties, with blonde hair and overall handsome features. The most prominent feature of this professor was some kind of subtle magic around his eyes. It was blue in colour; but Harry knew it was not the real colour.

"Welcome, Child." The professor smiled, and Harry felt warmth washed all over him. "You look tired. Are you alright?"

Familiarity filled Harry's mind. He knew this man. Somehow. From somewhere. And this man knew him as well. He stopped walking and bit his lower lips. Somehow his chest started throbbing. Why did the professor felt so familiar, yet making his chest pained as if he was betrayed? He wanted to runaway from the professor. The professor felt too familiar for his own likings.

When he saw Harry frozen, something in Blaise's chest made him want to take Harry away from the professor. So, Blaise took Harry's arm. "Come, Harry. Sorry, professor. He had a bad night but he insisted to go to class. I will make sure he is fine, sir."

The professor looked angry for a second, but changed into indifference the next. "I will leave him to you, then. Please sit down, Mr…?"

"Zabini, sir. Blaise Zabini."

Other students started to fill in the room and the class started. True to the rumour, the class was intense, but the way Professor Lockart taught them made everything seemed interesting. The professor dismissed some questions regarding his popular books, stating that the books was just book, and he was there as a teacher not an author. Throughout the whole class, Harry could feel that the Professor was looking at him at every single moment possible. Harry refrained himself from watching the professor's movement, thus he immersed himself in the textbook they were supposed to read and the spell they were practicing. But the intense staring made his skin hot; Harry blushed the whole time and he felt uncomfortable. They learned a spell of defence: 'Protego', that day.

After the class, Blaise hurriedly took Harry's arm and together they escaped from the room quickly. Harry wondered why, and when he asked, Blaised answered.

"I don't like the way he was looking at you the whole time. He looked like he wanted to eat you whole, Harry."

Harry swallowed hard and let himself be dragged to the glass house.

* * *

><p>In canon, Harry is portrait-ed as a hero. a natural gryffindor. I dont think it make sense. See the thing is a child who had been abused for so long with no one to protect him would never have a good self respect, no self conscience and zero self esteem. you might think his depression is overrated in this story (as you called it: pathetic); but I stand by my view of portraying Harry like this.<p>

On parseltongue: to learn a language you need to have the basic. I can use five, so I am familiar with it. The power to speak it without learning it first as well as the ability to look at Basilisk without being killed is purely because of the magic in Slytherin blood, in my opinion. So when the hocrux are gone from his head, Harry lost his ability to easily speak parseltongue-but he had the basic requirement to learn the language since he already used it before. But he needed to learn back. And he will. maybe.

Please fave/review/pm? I love getting feedback, positive or negative. Grammar wise, please be patient. You can either chose: fast update with awful grammar or slow update with perfect grammar. Your choice.


	11. Chapter 11

Betaed! By Blind_Alchemist sama. XD Any other mistakes are mine.

Enjoy!

* * *

><p>Professor Albus Percival-Wulfric Brian Dumbledore was in a huge dilemma at the moment. His beloved lemon drops wouldn't help him this time, even though he had tried eating five of them at the same time. His life still more sour than the lemon drops currently dissolving in his mouth.<p>

His visit to Gringotts with Harry and Serverus had turned into quite a disaster. Not only had his attempts at manipulation become known, the amount of Galleons he'd used to fund the Order of Phoenix also were expected to dry up within the next two years. He couldn't stop Harry from becoming "Lord Potter." The only good thing about the whole business was that Serverus had now become the boy's protector, which made everything easier. A bit, anyway. He was aware that Serverus had already begun to question his sanity. But so far he could still control the Potions Master, as well as Hogwarts in general.

It was all for the greater good. He expected people wouldn't be able to understand, as they were all childish compared to him. He had seen so much of life, more than they had, even when one combined all their experiences together. He had seen how the last war had destroyed everything—including Gerald Ginderwald, the man he'd loved, who'd ultimately betrayed him and the entire Wizarding world. And here he stood again; the only shield between the ignorant Wizarding people along with the Muggles, gainst extremists like Tom Riddle.

It wasn't as though he _wanted_ to be the leader of the Light, or Headmaster, or the Head of MCW, or the Supreme Mugwump. The positions were all rather meaningless. If he could choose, he'd only want Ariana and his brother Aberforth back. To live together, to be one of the ignorant Wizarding families who resided in one of the remote corners of Wales. With Gerald of course as his partner, happily living together as ignorant people.

No, he had chosen to oppose his lover, to bring back the peace and goodness that should constitute the norm of the Wizarding world. Did he end up regretting everything? Yes. Would he change anything if he could? No. He had done what he should have done, and the peace of the last 11 years, subsequent to the existence of Tom Riddle, who had become Voldemort, was all thanks to him. He had chosen to be a leader, and now he needed to continue on, despite knowing that this was not a straight, painless path. He bore his own sins. He knew he was sacrificing an innocent child to save the rest of the world. But then, what was one soul compared to the masses? And to be fair, it was all already written down by Fate itself. The prophecy had said so. It wasn't he, Dumbledore, who had chosen Harry Potter as the sacrificial lamb. Everything he was doing was for the greater good, and Harry was just a single sacrifice required for the whole Wizarding society.

But when he witnessed how the boy had clutched at the will and had cried his heart out in silence, Dumbledore, for the first time in eleven years, questioned himself and his deeds.

What had he done?

The child looked… absolutely broken. Utterly miserable. His silent crying showed how he was used to bearing everything in silence. To know that nobody cared about him, to know that what he felt only mattered to himself. To know that no one would understand or care. He didn't share those tears; he silently bowed and clutched the will to his chest with his fragile thin hands. Those tears… were painfully honest. And to think he was only eleven…

What had he done?

He was sacrificing the child for the masses; but those masses knew happiness. They knew what it felt like to share, to be happy, to have a family. And this child, chosen by the prophecy, cried in silence because he had no one who would care. He was already bearing the burden of being an orphan, the harsh reality of life, and he still was destined to die? Just for people who wouldn't appreciate his sacrifice?

Dumbledore couldn't justify his own actions to himself. Yes, he had sacrificed a lot for the masses himself, but at least he was acknowledged as their beloved leader. He was appreciated. The child, on the other hand… Dumbledore sighed. Dumbledore still remembered how the child had told him what his life was like—he was repeatedly bullied, received by no one, he had been kidnapped and ignored and forgotten—by the people he was going to protect and be sacrificed for.

It wasn't fair, not at all.

What had he done?

He had sent the child to the Muggle-relatives' house due to the blood protection status. He knew the Muggles weren't the kindest Muggles that existed, as his deputy headmaster had told him. He knew that he was leaving Harry Potter in a household that would shape his childhood, maybe with a bit harshness and neglect. But he'd never realized the extent of their abuse... the child whom he saw in St. Mungo's was broken, physically and mentally. For a child to love the idea of death, to want death…

What had he done?

And another thing to worry about was the return of the magical artefact. Nobody was aware, but the Invisibility Cloak was one of the three famed Deathly Hallows. Only his Elder Wand and the Resurrection Rings could match its value. He couldn't surrender the Elder Wand. If anybody knew about its true worth, it would become dangerous. But he had a contract to fulfil. He could always offer instead a part of his magical core, but then again, he wasn't sure how much he should offer. Moreover, because of the magical contract, his core wouldn't be able to grow back, unlike what had happened with the Mirror of Erised. He couldn't afford losing his power-who, then, would protect the people from the Dark Lord?

Dumbledore was pretty sure the boy had the Stone… but he had no proof, and now that he knew the extent of what he'd done, he couldn't bring himself to force the child to give it up. If the child had it, it was his prerogative. He deserved it. Harry Potter surely deserved more than what he currently had.

And maybe he should surrender the Elder Wand as well… Maybe. Yes, he would arm the child with some weapons, hoping that in the end, maybe Harry would conjure the power to change his own destiny, and kill Tom.

Maybe.

Dare he gamble with Fate?

* * *

><p>It was just his luck when he realized that the person he had possessed was Gilderoy Lockhart, idiot extraordinaire. Annana attacked the first person she had seen in Hogsmeade that day, which turned out to be Lockhart, who had been returning from Hogwarts after his interview with Dumbledore. Voldemort had only realized this when he had probed the man's memory and had found that he would be the next semester's new DADA teacher.<p>

Just his luck. He had wanted the job for so long. He had lost his chance to teach when he'd left Quirell's body, but now he'd secured another chance. And this way, he would be close to Harry. He could watch the child from a close distance. He'd honestly missed the boy.

No, he didn't miss the boy. Harry was just a good… minion.

Voldemort had also discovered, in the idiot's memory, that he was a famous author of biographic books that chronicled stolen memories. He saw how Gilderoy Lockhart had Obliviated each and every single main character in the books, metaphorically replacing himself into their shoes and writing about the adventure. He'd received good money and publicity from doing all this. Voldemort felt pure disgust towards the man; oh, how the Wizarding world had fallen, with so many idiots like Gilderoy Lockhart and the current Minister, Cornelius Fudge, in it.

The Stone had given him the Elixir of Life, which he religiously drank every morning. His magical core returned to him slowly, and currently he was able to perform as well as a normal wizard. Gilderoy Lockhart had a mediocre magical core at best, and Voldemort easily absorbed it all into his power. He missed Harry's magic. The difference between Harry's and Lockhart's magic was like the sensual difference between that of sewage water and the best wine. But he settled for second best for now, since he wanted the boy in perfect health, and not damaged in any way. Now he just needed to wait until his full power was returned, and he could leave the idiot's body.

He had changed his plans. He would not resort to force and violence now. He used to control people with his strong charisma when he was still sane, but eventually he'd resorted to control using fear, due to his obsession regarding defying death. As his power had increased, his paranoia about death ultimately defeated him, and Voldemort chose to mutilate his own soul into a Horcrux. In a way, Harry was very similar to him. They both had this obsessive fascination about an identical subject, death. But the purposes for their fixations couldn't be more different. Whereas Harry was obsessed with the notion of death because he wanted to die, Voldemort was obsessed with the notion of death because he never wanted to die.

He realized that fear had gained him nothing. He needed to re-establish his charisma, and the easiest way to do so was to combine his powers into his first Horcrux, the diary. After returning to his full charismatic self, he would come and control the Ministry of Magic from the background, playing the puppeteer. He would not resort to violence anymore. The Wizarding World was comprised of a population of idiots who followed blindly whatever their Minister said. It was easier to plan behind the scenes. Thus, he needed to get his old connections back.

His first stop was Lucius Malfoy. The man was a verifiable master in politics and manipulation. Voldemort came and sensed the fear that returned to the man, but because he needed full cooperation and not unreliable fear-controlled submission, he was ready to offer an equal collaboration with the man, instead of a master-slave relationship. Lucius also had his first Horcrux.

When he had seen, using Legilimency, that Lucius had misplaced his Horcrux with Harry Potter, Voldemort was beyond angry. He'd destroyed Malfoy's manor's guest room, and then had calmed down after he'd tortured Lucius into unconsciousness after several rounds of the Cruciatus curse. He did regain his common sense, but by then it was too late. So instead he played things by ear and had ordered Lucius (whom he'd Enervated back to consciousness) to prepare for his return into the political world.

But he would still use this once-in-a-year chance of becoming a professor in Hogwarts. He could stay by Harry, get back his Horcrux and prepare for his entrance into the political world. Now the main thing to do was to regain the diary from the boy. And make the boy loosen up for him.

Their first class wasn't exactly how Voldemort pictured it would be. He knew Harry was strong enough to sense him inside Lockhart's body. Harry had directly seen through his strong Glamour spell, the spell that was so complicated and impenetrable that even McGonagall had failed to sense anything. He saw how Harry's expression had become frozen and then turn into one of fear. Honestly it had hurt a bit, to see the child looking at him in apprehension. He'd spent the entire class watching the child. Harry looked physically better, if only a bit, from the last time he'd seen him in Lucius' memory. Voldemort was ready to embrace the child and make the fear go away. But then that _idiot_ boy—_Blaise Zabini—_took Harry away from him. _Unforgiveable_.

But Harry's reaction was understandable, albeit a bit weird. Voldemort needed to do something about that fear to make the child receive him again. And being a teacher, he knew he had the power to be alone with the child. And he would abuse his power, to make Harry's trust come back to him. After all, he could give Harry as many detentions as he liked.

* * *

><p>It had to be just his bad luck.<p>

The day had started normally enough, like any other—breakfast with Blaise, and with Hedwig perched on his shoulder, eating bacon from his plate. They had two hours of DADA that morning. Blaise looked strangely worried, and he told Harry to watch himself in front of Lockhart. Blaise explained that he'd seen Professor Lockhart watching Harry like a hawk every single time they were having meals in the Great Hall during the last week.

Suddenly, said professor passed through the Hall, and he was smiling at them.

"Why, Mr. Zabini, Mr. Potter. Do you think I cannot be trusted?"

Blaise paled. Harry bit his lips, knowing that this wouldn't end up well. The professor smiled at them, but the smile made their skin crawl.

"Maybe you need to spend more time with me in order to get to know me a little better, hmm? Mr. Potter, detention with me tonight at eight. Be punctual. Mr. Zabini, you can come to me this afternoon, around four. Please be punctual as well."

Both boys gulped down and nodded.

Meanwhile, Snape watched the interaction from his place at the teachers' table.

* * *

><p>The two-hour class of DADA that morning was a bit of a mental strain. Harry had somehow misplaced his textbook. He gained another quipping comment from his professor on how Harry was clumsy and lazy enough to have forgotten to prepare the textbook from the night before. Blaise tried to defend his friend, but Professor Lockhart seemed determined to add another detention to Harry's schedule. So Harry was booked for another detention with the Professor for the next day.<p>

After that, Harry failed to correctly answer one of the questions the professor was asking the whole class, so the professor assigned another detention for Harry. Harry couldn't believe it. Three detentions in a row. Three detentions in a _week_. Blaise was growling in anger and some of the other students also seemed to find it quite unfair. But Harry smiled and calmed them down. He was sure that he could survive these detentions from the professor. And it was not as though the professor didn't have any valid reason to punish him for being incompetent.

Blaise had to complete his detention first, and he went to Lockhart's office while trembling in trepidation. But by the time he had returned to the common room to get Harry so that they could both go to dinner, his mood was elevated, and Blaise was actually kind of praising the professor. Apparently the professor had given him a single tutorial time on Defence covering useful lie detector methods (such as by using Veritaserum, or by a complicated spell, or by simply being observant), and Blaise found it quite interesting. Yet when he realized that Harry was up next for detention, he warned his dear friend to be careful.

Harry only nodded silently in agreement, concentrating more on writing inside the diary (it had asked Harry to call him "Tom") and apologizing to it because he wouldn't be able to write much for the next three nights. Tom wasn't very happy with this news.

_What exactly did you do to make him so determined to give you that many detentions, Harry? That is three detentions in a row!_

Harry apologized again, writing in the book, as the dinner hour slipped by. In the end, Tom forgave him, but not before throwing a tantrum for another half an hour. When Harry was at long last ready to close the diary and eat, there was almost nothing left on the table. He didn't mind, though. Harry only ate a bit of salad and the last piece of grilled fish. Blaise frowned at Harry's habit of sacrificing eating for other, less important activities. Pansy Parkinson commented on his small appetite and it started a discussion on how eating habits ultimately determined one's height.

"You eat like a bird, Potter. Don't blame others when you turn out to be the shortest fifth-year Slytherin in three years."

Harry blushed and managed to stuff up another potato in his mouth. Blaise smirked and Pansy grinned. Draco, however, added salt to the wound.

"But I don't think eating would help—look at him, he is as petite as Daphne's little sister. Maybe you were born with the wrong gender, Potter?"

"Yup, he'd be so cute if he were a girl. So tiny," Theodore Nott added in snicker.

Harry blushed furiously, and between his mouthfuls, he managed to retort back, "I am not a girl!"

"Yah," Blaise smirked. "You only stand as tall as my chin."

Harry puffed his cheeks, but it made him choke from the potato. Everybody around him laughed hard while Blaise helped the poor boy by patting Harry's back. Then the conversation turned to Quidditch, and Harry was reminded that he had his first practice the day he had his last detention.

Frowning, Harry decided to tell Marcus Flint. The news was taken quite badly by the Quidditch captain, but the other second year students mentioned how unfair the detention was, so at least they gathered that it wasn't Harry's fault. Flinch gritted his teeth and promised he would ask Professor Snape to take over the conflicting detention so that Harry could go practice with them.

* * *

><p>Harry left Tom's diary inside the Slytherin dorm and went to Professor Lockhart's personal quarters. His mind was filled with the verbal warnings from Blaise, and surprisingly, from all his other classmates. They had expressed their concern about him because they had seen how unfair the professor was being. Three detentions in a row just due to trivial mistakes? Furthermore, it wasn't as though Lockhart were another Snape. The perplexing thing was, Lockhart had only targeted Harry. And there wasn't a single point from Slytherin that had been taken down. So clearly the professor was aiming for another goal, which maybe was personal one-on-one time with Harry.<p>

Theodore Nott had even offered to put a Tracking Charm on Harry so that they would know if Lockhart decided to suddenly kidnap Harry. Harry waved them away, blushing and thinking that they were just thinking too much and letting their imaginations run wild. He was answered by looks of exasperation from his mates, who were all sighing and commenting on how 'gullible' Harry was.

"You'd never know the meaning of the term _attraction_ even when it comes to you up the arse," Pansy in particular had commented, whereupon the boys had flushed and shushed her.

"Come in."

Harry stepped inside the room. It reminded him of the Slytherin common room, with all the silver and green colours and some serpent-themed decorative displays. The professor was seated on one of the plush sofa chairs, and he gestured towards Harry to sit on a three seated sofa that was next to his own sofa.

"The colour of the sofa compliments your eyes," Professor Lockhart smiled gently. Harry swallowed hard; all the warnings from his mates suddenly filled his head. The professor's smile _felt_ more carnal than what it superficially showed.

"I… I am sorry, Professor."

"Do you know what exactly you are sorry for, child?"

Harry looked up and found the professor's eyes staring at him intensely. The colour of the man's eyes changed, from blue to reddish, with black slits for pupils. A feeling of familiarity filled his chest. Harry knew those eyes. He couldn't recall from where, but he knew. He could sense and feel the aura of the man's magic. It was darker than what he had expected, and for Harry to be able to sense the aura that strongly, the man had to be as powerful as Dumbledore.

Harry bit his lower lip, thinking frantically of why he was there. "Because… Because I don't trust you, professor. And I forgot my textbook today, as well as to be unable to answer the question during class, professor."

The professor smiled again; this time, his fingers came onto Harry's cheek and trailed it softly down to Harry's jaw.

"Right. How do you think I should give you detention tonight, Harry?"

Harry looked away. He tried to find anything that might be suitable for his detention. Professor Snape always had a lot of unwashed cauldrons; it was easy in his case to nominate "cleaning cauldrons" as a proper punishment. But inside the room, there was nothing that seemed to help him in this regard. The office was proper and prim, not a speckle of dust was anywhere, and honestly, Harry couldn't find any faults that he could mend.

"I… I am not sure, sir."

"Why don't we make it our special time, then? We can build the trust you appear to lack for me. Instead of punishing you, I can see that it is better to give you something else… a lesson, for example. Can you tell me what you find as an interesting subject?"

The professor was definitely sitting too close for his comfort. Harry felt his back starting to sweat. He had never felt more awkward and uncomfortable. He didn't know how to answer.

"It's… up to you, sir."

"This is not about me, child. It's about _your_ education." The man smiled. His fingers trailed softly back onto Harry's cheek. "What are you thinking about now?"

Harry bit his lips. "You… you feel familiar, sir."

"Really?" There was a hint of satisfaction in the man's voice, but Harry couldn't understand why. And then suddenly the man stood up, leaving the sofa and making a beeline for a book on one of the shelves. "How about if we read this together?"

Harry nodded, and they spent the whole two hours reading from the book. The professor actually sat beside him, and while Harry read the passages out loud, the professor's hand circled possessively around Harry's waist. The book was about traditional Defence rituals, including the use of talismans and magical artefacts. It was surprisingly quite interesting, and Harry was steadily getting more deeply and deeply absorbed into the subject matter, until he completely forgot to read the passages it out loud.

Time passed and Harry was so immersed in reading the book that he didn't notice somebody going around him. A shadow cast over him, and he suddenly felt a kiss on his forehead. Harry snapped his head up and turned, finding the professor smiling at him.

"Sorry, child. It's time to get back. You can continue reading this tomorrow."

Harry blushed furiously. He was so embarrassed. He was supposed to read the book out loud as a punishment, and he had enjoyed himself too much instead. And a quick Tempus spell showed that it was almost time for curfew. Harry nodded, hurriedly stood up from the sofa, and returned the book to Professor Lockhart's lap.

"Tha..Thank you, sir."

"You are welcome, child. Now, run along; it is almost time for curfew."

Harry nodded, bowed a little and went away. His heart in his chest was beating fast. The ordeal had been so embarrassing and yet strangely calming as well. He'd felt just as he had in the library—alone and safe, with nobody around to disturb him—and he'd enjoyed the book immensely. He had even forgotten about the professor's presence in the room! And… the professor had _kissed_ his forehead! Harry's cheeks were burning—it was really embarrassing!

When he turned around the next corner, he accidentally bumped into someone. Harry was pushed back and he fell on the floor. Blame his weightless body that the impact pushed him back that hard.

"Are you alright?"

An outstretched hand was offered. Harry took it and found himself staring at Ron Weasley's face. Both boys were frozen for a moment, and the red-headed boy retracted his offered hand as though Harry's hand were on fire.

"What… What's a slimy Slytherin doing here? It's almost time for curfew!"

"…What about yourself?" Harry retorted.

"I am searching for my wayward rat Scabbers! How about you? You must be doing something illegal, you slimy Slytherin!"

"No, I am not!" Harry yelled back.

"Then what? Oh…. the detention?"

Harry looked away. As much and as hard as he had trained himself to smile at everyone, Ron Weasley had been such a jerk to him that he couldn't even force a phony smile. And then the memory of the embarrassing detention made his face flush. Harry looked away and pulled himself up, pretending to ignore the boy. He walked past Weasley swiftly. This didn't go over well with the other boy, and Harry felt his arm being caught in Weasley's stronger grip.

"Wait! You can't just ignore me like that!"

Harry turned to him, wondering what it was all about. His cheeks were blushing still, but this time not from embarrassment. Harry really felt bothered by the boy; Ron Weasley was his main bully, and he didn't want to be around the boy for longer than a few seconds. He'd had enough of the Duddleys of the world.

"What?" Harry asked softly. "What do you want?"

Weasley blushed a bit, and then suddenly he spoke up again. "Your face is really red. What happened? Did the fall hurt you that much? Was the detention that bad?"

Harry jerked his arm back, turning away. It wasn't any of the red head's concern. It was almost time for curfew. He needed to go back to his common room. So Harry left the red headed boy in the corridor and ran to the dungeon where the Slytherin dorm was.

* * *

><p>His mates were all over him. They asked for every single detail on how the detention went. Harry blushed hard when he remembered the stupid and embarrassing thing he had done—and he told them the truth, that he was immersed in reading until he had lost track of time.<p>

Draco, Pansy, and Theo looked sceptical, especially after they had seen the blush on Harry's face. Blaise, on the other hand, looked very worried. But all of them released Harry in the end, letting the small boy slip into his pyjamas and go to bed. It was a bit of a strange day, but not a bad one, Harry reasoned to himself.

And because he went straight to sleep, he forgot to bid "goodnight" to Tom.

* * *

><p>Two detentions with the boy had made Voldemort forget about all the problems in the world. He honestly viewed all the other Hogwarts students purely as potential slaves or as ignorant fools, but every single moment of torture in trying to teach all the stupid imbeciles during classes was washed away with the two hours of pure blissful privacy shared between him and Harry.<p>

Harry was blushing adorably when he came the next night—Voldemort wasn't sure why the boy was so shy. They had done nothing but read together. And when Harry became absorbed in the text, the boy stopped caring about his surroundings and was mentally transported into his own world. This was something that Voldemort approved of, because the boy needed it. The boy needed both the distraction from his everyday life, and the knowledge. He could see that Harry had been doing some studying when they weren't together—he was curious of what, but he suspected something concerning death since it was Harry's ultimate passion—and the boy presently showed increased interest in books and in gaining knowledge. Maybe now, Voldemort could convince the boy to read most of the books in the Slytherin library again.

So far he hadn't seen any proof that Harry had been using his Horcrux—the boy still behaved as though he were sane, and there was no residual signature of Tom Riddle's anywhere on the boy's core. But he knew that, even so, it wasn't a good indicator—Harry's magic was strong enough to override others'. He needed to make sure that the boy hadn't used the diary. Somehow, Voldemort would feel better if he knew for certain that Tom Riddle had never sunk his hook into Harry. Blame it on his possessiveness, but Harry was Voldemort's. No one could get Harry without killing him first.

Or maybe Harry had given the diary to somebody else? Given Harry's personality, he would always give what he had to others, despite his own deprivation. So Voldemort needed to design another mechanism to fish his first Horcrux out. And he knew a definite way to do that.

"_Annana, come __here__." _

The huge serpent entered the room through a big pipe in the ceilings. Voldemort smiled. He had managed to connect the Chamber of Secrets with his current personal quarters. The Basilisk had free access to his room, and would come whenever he asked.

_Yessss, massster? _the serpent hissed in satisfaction. _I just had the best meal. A very juicy feline. I played with it before I devour__ed__ the delicious meat. _

"_Oh, really?" _Voldemort smiled. "_How about I give you another thing to play with?" _

Annana hissed in happiness, but then her tongue sensed something else in the air.

_Harry? Was the boy here, Tom? _

"_Yess. He was here." _

_I miss him. When can I meet Harry again? Soon? _

"_Soon." _Voldemort smiled. Yes, soon. Very soon.

* * *

><p>Serverus Snape was not so happy.<p>

He didn't know that he was only one out of several unhappy people in the castle, but at the moment, he didn't care. All he cared about was Harry's well being. Upon hearing all the complaints and verbal support from his little Slytherin snakes, he realized there was something unhealthy behind Lockhart's sudden attention on Harry.

Assigning a detention just because the boy didn't bring his book to class! Five points deducted from Slytherin should have been enough. No, it sounded more like Lockhart had purposely singled out Harry for any minor infraction and had assigned detention to the boy. And the only rational explanation behind this detention assigning was that the blonde peacock wanted Harry's time. Truthfully, no sane teacher would ever sacrifice their precious free time solely to supervise a student's detention.

And tonight, Flint came into his office and personally requested for him to save Harry so that they could let him practice Quidditch. Snape decided it would be best if he settled everything now—show Lockhart who was boss, and warn him to stay away from Harry. And he could use the magical influence of Quidditich on Harry, to make the child exercise and become healthier, as well as make friends inside Slytherin.

He increased his pace towards the DADA professor's quarters, preparing his wand. He knew he could win any duel that might be instigated, but it would be best if they could resolve the matter in peace. He knocked on the door, but nobody came to open it. So instead he unlocked the door and entered, fully knowing he was breeching the other professor's privacy. As the Head of Slytherin House in Hogwarts, Snape had a bit of power over the tight security of the castle, and he was entrusted with the ability to unlock any door within the castle.

What he saw shocked him. The room itself felt like the embodiment of Slytherin's common room, with all the serpent motifs and silver-green theme. He found his object of interest in the middle of the room, silently reading a giant tome that was balanced on his thin thighs. But the sight that made Snape's blood boil out of control was the other adult in the room.

The blonde idiot was all over Harry—one hand rested on Harry's waist, and his face was so close to the boy's hair, Snape would bet he was inhaling Harry's scent—and he was smiling like a lecherous paedophile.

"HARRY!" Snape shouted loudly, shattering what seemed like a magical moment for Lockhart. Both the boy and the professor turned to see him, and Harry blushed furiously. His expression was all Snape needed to confirm his. He looked uncomfortable. That bastard Lockhart was forcing himself onto Harry!

"Come here!"

"Serverusss," Lockhart suddenly hissed, and Snape thought that the author-turned-professor's eyes appeared red for a moment. Snape saw how the blonde's arm slid tighter around Harry's waist. "Harry is having detention with me."

"I think that is enough, Gilderoy," Snape hissed back. "Three detentions in a row, over a forgotten textbook—it is not appropriate, Gilderoy. Your agenda is too obvious. I will take the matter off your hands—I can find a more suitable detention for Ha.. Potter. Potter! Come with me!"

The boy looked between his two professors, and in the end he decided to follow Snape. Snape was the better choice, since the man had done nothing but help him since the summer, whereas Harry, frankly, was still awkward around his DADA professor.

Snape nodded for a bit and took the child away.

He failed to notice the angry hissing coming from behind him when he closed the door behind him.

* * *

><p>The Quidditch practice was an amusing experience for Harry. The boy was given the Snitch to catch, and he captured in within the first 5 minutes of practice. Flint assumed that Harry had been following the Snitch closely, so he ordered Harry to fly (which made Harry a source of amusement for the other members of the Quidditch team as well—the boy flew like he breathed) around, and then he secretly released the Snitch. It took Harry another 10 minutes to catch it.<p>

The practice turned into a showcase of Harry's skills to the whole team—Flint, who was full of passion, couldn't contain his excitement as he released ten Snitches, ordering Harry to catch them all. Harry, following orders as usual, flew and caught all of them in about 30 minutes, which was incredible. The boy even caught the last Snitch with his teeth, when his hands were already full of other Snitches.

When the practice ended, he was ushered to the bathroom, whereupon they all happily accepted the smallest boy of their team as their new star Seeker. Then they returned to the dungeon, walking in a single group and cracking jokes amongst themselves (true, they were Slytherins, but they were allowed to be children when there were no other students around—they just need to maintain their hostile farce in front of other Houses, Gryffindor especially). It was then they found the graffiti spelled out in blood, and the sad-looking petrified dog hanging on the wall.

**The Chamber of Secret has been opened. Enemies of the heir, beware.**

Beside the writing, Harry noticed that it was Fang, Hagrid's dog, who was hanging stiffly on the wall.

Someone _screamed_.

* * *

><p>Review please?<p> 


	12. Chapter 12

Thank you for the reviews!

By the way, I think this is the rule now: I post what I have, then when my dear beta has finished editing, I re-post them. So if you want an un beta-ed version, use the first email, if you want the beta-ed version, please wait for another two days and you will find another email telling you i re-posted the chapter.

THIS IS THE BETAed VERSION.

I want to point out, there is a great disparity between the number of hits (currently 1,007) with the number of reviews/PM/favourite (14/0/3 respectively). Is this mean that people are loosing interest in this story?

Enjoy!

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><p><em>The Chamber of Secret<em>_s__ is open,_ Harry wrote in the diary after returning to his dorm, _and Hagrid's dog was __P__etrified. _

His team mates weren't the only ones who had gone into shock mode. Their screams brought a lot of other students from other Houses running towards where the message was scrawled on the wall. They were shocked as well and some of them even fainted. Even the teachers were surprised and paled when they saw the message on the wall. Hagrid was called, and he took the news really hard. Upon seeing his dog's Petrified body, he started to sob, and ironically, it was Filch who came forward and patted the half giant. Apparently Mrs. Norris, Filch's cat, had been missing since last week, and hadn't since returned. Hagrid and Filch bonded together over the loss of their pets, while the professors asked every student to return to their dorm.

The diary shook a bit before absorbing what Harry wrote before replying, _Do you know what the Chamber of Secrets __is__? _

Harry thought for a second. If he admitted his knowledge of the Chamber of Secrets, he would reveal that he knew of Marvolo. And truthfully, he didn't want to reveal the latter. It was partly because of his promise to Marvolo to never tell anyone, but also, a bit of emotion welling up inside his chest somehow prevented him from sharing the memory of Marvolo to anyone. It was painful enough that the man had left him because Harry had proved useless; but was Harry at least entitled to keep his own private memory of Marvolo to himself? After all, things in his life had gone a lot better during the time he'd been possessed by the professor. So yes—he decided that he wanted to keep the memory of Marvolo to himself.

_No. I don't believe you do. Do you truly? _

And Harry suddenly found himself in the middle of a hazy world, and physically smack-dab in front of a handsome fifth year. The boy smiled at him.

"Hi, I am Tom Riddle. Nice to meet you, Harry."

Harry nodded, and he followed the older boy through the whole sequence of 'memories' of Hagrid opening the Chamber of Secrets.

It was weird, really. And Harry couldn't help but wonder: Was Hagrid a Parseltongue? That was the only way to open the door to the Chamber and talk to Annana. If he was, then _awesome_, maybe Harry could ask him to take him down to the Chamber and meet Annana again. But then again, Hagrid had killed people using his pet giant acromantula. Could spiders' glares kill, like how Annana normally killed? But then, why would he go and Petrify his own dog?

Tom, on the other hand, was waiting for some kind of verbal response from Harry. The boy was a weird one. He was so obsessed with death, drinking all the information he could about Necromancy (which was quite worrying, especially considering the boy's tender age). Also, he'd never told Tom what his real family name was. Tom could see that the boy must be at least half magical blood, or even of Mudblood origin, but for his own purposes, he couldn't afford to be choosy. And the boy was at least entertaining enough, in some sense. The boy always had the strangest reactions to any kind of stimuli. Just like now. Usually people would react in anger/amusement when they caught wind of something as mysterious as the Chamber of Secrets; but the boy looked as though this type of discovery were an everyday occurrence; he even asked about Hagrid more than about the Chamber itself.

Realizing he couldn't get a more enthusiastic response, Tom sighed and then proceeded to teach the boy a bit more about Necromancy. Harry responded better to this, and that day they argued about the nature of death. Necromancy came into the picture again, and this time Tom told Harry how Necromancy could be used as a medium to control the dead. It sparked interest in the boy, who couldn't understand how people could make the dead come back to life. If that were the case, then there must be ways to pass through the gate more than once, Harry argued, to call the souls of the dead and return them to their previous bodies.

Tom pointed out that it wasn't the _soul_ that returned. Making an army of zombies only required that the Necromancer put some kind of control over the souls belonging to the dead bodies (shells that had been emptied of their souls). Harry argued that if that were the case, then Necromancers did nothing to affect souls themselves— they just obtained control of empty shells; thus, Necromancy wasn't about the study of death, or communicating with the dead. It was more a means for controlling empty vessels in the living world. If this were the case, then a Necromancer could not claim the ability to connect to the dead through the gate.

Faced with such an argument, Tom was forced to take some time to think, and finally he replied. He couldn't really find a plausible argument over Harry, since he couldn't do additional research in his current state, but once he could possess Harry, he would research what the boy was talking about. Instead, he delayed any answers to the questions and told Harry all about the Deathly Hallows. He explained to Harry that the tale of the Deathly Hallows wasn't a simple children's bedtime story; the tale had a grain of truth in it. And it was believed that the Hallows were created by the very first generation of Necromancers in order to control and win over death. Harry was fascinated with Tom's teachings, and forgot all about his earlier Necromancy-related questions.

Both of them decided to stop the discussion when they realized they had been talking for more than 3 hours. Harry needed his sleep and he bid Tom goodbye. Tom, the living embodiment of a diary, was amused. The Horcrux had actually found the arguments between the two of them interesting. Harry wasn't half as stupid as he'd thought of the boy before. And his magic was so sweet… maybe Tom should let Harry stay alive after being resurrected back as Lord Voldemort. As a pet, maybe.

And it brought to his mind another matter: who'd opened the Chamber? The only ones in the universe who could possibly open the Chamber were either himself or some other Parseltongue. Yet there weren't any other records of other Parseltongues, not in the last many years; surely Harry would tell him if there were. This was very intriguing and he needed to find out who did open the Chamber. After all, it was an insult to 'Lord Voldemort's' name if somebody else, who was not Slytherin's Heir, used Annana for their own amusement. And the sound of this new message was a direct challenge to him.

Yes, he would uncover everything, once he possessed the boy's body.

* * *

><p>The news regarding the opening of the Chamber of Secrets didn't settle well within the student body. Hermione Granger, the genius know-it-all from Gryffindor, started the whole chain of questions by asking their Transfiguration professor about the said Chamber. Everybody listened with great attention, all except for Harry Potter, because the boy already knew all about the Chamber. He busily wrote in his diary while the professor gave a cursory explanation of what had happened. And then after that, every single student apart from Harry started their quest for knowledge, searching for more information about the Chamber.<p>

Naturally, the Gryffindors (except for Hermione Granger and some other studious ones) gave up their searches within a day, but many Hufflepuffs persisted longer than the Ravenclaws, although with less resources. Ravenclaws purely looked at the subject it from a logical and academic point of view. And Slytherins were calmly following whatever thread of gossip that passed through by Hufflepuff House while peeking through the research done by Ravenclaw House. Harry was ignorant of the whole charade, as usual.

Little did the boy know that the Tom Riddle inside the diary was getting impatient. Tom Riddle had set his sights on getting in Harry's mind, and, in theory, he should have been able to possess the boy within three weeks of their first conversation (since they had been talking for more than a few hours every single day). But now, not only was Harry still maintaining his distance from him, Tom couldn't even manipulate Harry's mind. He still communicated through the pages of the book with Harry. He couldn't get out and take over the boy's body, though. And the boy was now immune to his manipulative techniques. He could feel that the boy was currently always keeping his distance. What was happening?

Harry, ignorant as always of what was happening around him, wrote down that he would be having a meeting with Professor Snape that night, so he wouldn't be able to write much to Tom. Of course, the diary told the boy it was fine. So Harry happily returned to his class and managed to change the cup on his desk into a hummingbird within the first flick of his wand. That earned him his usual reward package: five points for Slytherin, his Slytherin mates' approval and Ron Weasley's scowl.

That last one made him wonder. What was the problem with the red headed boy?

* * *

><p>"Come in."<p>

Harry found that nothing had changed since he'd moved back to the dorm. The Potions Master's quarters were still as tidy as ever, with hints of the smell of weird herbs. Harry sat down in one of the chairs, waiting for the professor to turn his attention towards him and order him to do something.

"Harry." The professor started to speak, only to stop in the middle of his thoughts and start to look constipated, "…I… I am here if you need… need to talk."

"I don't understand, sir. What do you mean?"

"You can... you can tell me what happened with Lockhart."

Harry blushed. "Nothing happened, sir. I was just… just enjoying some books when I was with him, and I forgot the time."

"Child." Snape looked at him in pity. Harry didn't like it, but he didn't know what his guardian was thinking about. "It is not the right thing to do. He should never do anything that makes you feel… uncomfortable."

"Uncomfortable?" Harry asked, his mind clouded with bits of confusion and suspicion. The Harry's Box inside his head started to shake, threatening to open and pour its insides out. "What do you mean, professor?"

"Did he… did he force something on you? Did he touch you inappropriately, or did he make you do something that made you feel terrible… or dirty?"

The word _dirty_ triggered the memory Harry had previously kept tightly inside the Harry's Box. The image of him going up and down on his uncle's manhood and sucking the contents came out of the box, nauseating Harry. Everything in his vision became blurry and his mouth was once again filled with the putrid, vile stuff. He paled and started vomiting his dinner all out on the floor. Tears were falling down his cheeks. His body was trembling in fear and disgust.

_No. No more, please._

The taste of semen inside his mouth made him vomit a lot more. _No. Not this. Not now_. He hated this, so much. Please stop. Please? Please?

_Marvolo, help me. _

No, no. Marvolo wouldn't be able to help him. He should stop being dependent on the professor who'd left him. He needed to endure everything using his own strength. Wringing out the last but most forceful convulsions, Harry vomited out blood onto his hands. His knees buckled and the boy collapsed to the floor, still conscious but quickly losing control over his body. Snape's jaw hung in shock, and he immediately got down and wrapped the boy inside his arms. Splashes of Harry's vomited blood vaguely stained the front of his black robes.

"Harry! Harry! What happened? Calm down! Return to me!"

He was still so helpless. Harry wiped his mouth. The taste of iron filled his mouth and the spaces in between his teeth, overriding the foul taste of the imaginary semen. Slowly he regained his consciousness. His mind was busy gathering it all back into the Harry's Box. No more. He should make the box harder to open. He couldn't afford another memory leak like that. No.

"Professor?"

"Harry? Can you hear me? What happened?"

"I remembered something… Professor, but it's over. I am fine now. I am so sorry."

Feeling that he couldn't coax any more information from the boy, Snape gave up and helped Harry spread himself on a bigger sofa. He pulled a blanket over the small boy and went to get some of his potions. Pain relief potions? Sleep inducing potions? What should he get? If only he could make a potion for better understanding the minds of abused little kids…

Harry peacefully surrendered himself to the silence. He retained everything, all his senses, tightly sealing the box once again. The incident made him realize how mentally weak he was. The memories could still escape the box he made, no matter how tightly he'd closed the lid. It was unacceptable. Nobody wanted a broken child. He needed to hold himself together.

"Harry, drink this calming draught. What happened back there? Tell me where the pain is."

Harry was tempted to point to his own head, but it was not an acceptable answer. The pain was from the _inside_ of his head. If he told the professor the truth, the man would think Harry was going crazy. Or worse, useless, and he would revoke his guardianship over Harry. Nobody was going to help, nobody _could_ help Harry, and nobody cared enough anyway. He smiled and shook his head. A bit of a headache pained him, but the draught made him calmer than ever. He could live with that kind of small pain. He was used to more acute pain that that.

"Nothing, professor, I was caught in a bad moment. I'm getting over a bad cold. It's passed now. That's all."

"I won't accept this answer." Snape slowly took a seat beside Harry's body, in the limited space of the sofa. "What was that? Did you remember something bad? Tell me, child. Please believe me that I'll do anything to help."

Harry watched the man looking at him, and he could feel another probing inside his mind. Again.

"Sir?" The boy asked. "Why do you keep trying to get into my mind?"

Snape immediately cut the eye contact and looked away. "Because you do not share anything, child, and it is definitely unhealthy to bury everything inside your head."

"I am healthy, sir."

"I wouldn't say that vomiting blood occasionally is exactly 'healthy,' Mr. Potter."

"This is the first time that's ever happened, sir. I promise I am fine."

"I don't want you to promise something like that, Harry. This is not a matter of who is strong or who is capable. This is something to share for the sake of your own mental health. Child, please say something; tell me what has burdened you."

Could he tell the man the truth? Harry wondered in his mind. If he told the man about his uncle, what would that do, exactly? Would the professor be disgusted with him? Would the professor pity him? Or was it a normal occurrence for any child—to be ordered to do that? Would the professor think that Harry was exaggerating the whole matter? Would his Harry's Box sustain such a blow? To be told that he was actually overreacting to things?

Maybe he could, one day. But not now.

"…" Harry opened his mouth, just to be intercepted by the arrival of their Headmaster through the Floo system. Snape snapped his head up quickly to see Albus coming inside, somehow making the Potions Master a bit irritated because he'd almost succeeded in coaxing Harry to speak up.

"Hello, Serverus, Harry. It is a wonderful time to meet you both. I am sorry to barge in, but I have something important to show both of you."

Snape nodded and signalled for the Headmaster to take a seat. The elderly Headmaster scanned the room, and was surprised to see the state of the boy in front of him.

"Are you sick, my child?"

Harry shook his head, while Snape nodded and said "Yes."

Finding the situation funny, the Headmaster chuckled and took out his wand, muttering some charms towards Harry. Harry was surprised when the warm feeling of a gentle light enveloped him. His body suddenly felt a lot better, physically, and it was only then that he realized that he was actually having some minor kind of stomach pain.

"Are you feeling better now?" Albus asked Harry. The boy nodded. "Good. Now we can continue. I am here to return the artefact I owe you, young Lord Potter. I offer you this wand, which may look too old to be of use but it is of similar value to your Invisibility Cloak. However, the rules have dictated you need to take it from me. So I need you to duel me, Lord Potter."

"Albus!" Snape looked terrified. "Are you out of your mind?"

Albus Dumbledore shook his head. "Alas, I am not. I am really serious. This wand is of the same value of the Cloak, and I am more than happy to surrender this to Harry. Yet magical law dictates that Harry needs to prove himself worthy of yielding this wand. He needed to expel this wand from me."

Harry was confused, but when he heard what he needed to do, he worked quickly.

"Expelliarmus!" Harry whispered. And the wand flew to his left hand.

Immediately there was some kind of reaction between Harry's phoenix-core wand and the Elder Wand. Harry was surprised when he saw his phoenix-core wand suddenly fly out into his other hand. Both of the wands glowed, one in a red light, and the other one in a white light. The lights were growing in intensity, as if both wands were trying to outdo each other.

Watching in amusement and shock, Serverus Snape and Albus Dumbledore stayed in their places. Even Dumbledore forgot to comment on what was happening and watched the show in silence. The boy looked like he was holding two distinct light sources in each of his hands, one from his old wand (which glowed red) and the one he'd taken from Dumbledore (which glowed white). There was a burst of magical sparks around the room, making the hairs on both Snape and Dumbledore's necks stand out in unison.

After a few seconds that felt like an eternity, the glowing decreased and in Harry's hands both wands stopped glowing. Apparently they had reached an agreement. Harry felt more power coming from the wand he'd Expelled from Dumbledore, but more warmth from his old phoenix-core wand.

"…I wasn't prepared for such a hand, but nevertheless, you are the new owner of the wand. Please take care of it very carefully, Harry. It is very dangerous to let it fall into the wrong hands." Albus Dumbledore had finally collected himself enough to speak. Serverus Snape turned to the elder wizard, clearly not understanding a single thing that was happening before his eyes.

"What was that, Albus?"

"Ah, it was just a duel between the two wands. Neither wanted to concede their place as Harry's main wand." Albus smiled. "It is most curious. When I had that wand, my first wand didn't react this much. That wand of yours really loves you, Harry."

Harry blushed, feeling the warmth emulating from his phoenix-core wand. His wand loved him? Could it be possible that a wand could have feelings? Harry rubbed his thumb over the length of the wand and it purred in delight. The boy was shocked, but he kept stroking and his wand kept purring in delight. And his new wand (the one he'd gotten from Dumbledore) was tingling, as if it were jealous of the phoenix-core wand. Harry immediately rubbed the new wand as well, and both of them purred in happiness. Harry wondered whether it was normal for a wizard to feel their wands purring in happiness, but it touched him in a way he didn't understand.

"Talking about duels, maybe it is wise to give you a proper lesson about proper duelling techniques, Lord Potter." The headmaster nodded to himself, after watching Harry's subtle interaction with the wands. The boy might not have realized it, but Albus was impressed by the adeptness the boy had regarding scribing his own magical signature. Even _he_ couldn't understand exactly what had happened, but as he watched Harry rub both wands together, he could feel positive vibes coming from both wands. "Maybe you can assist me in that, Serverus? Maybe I could even make it a club for every Muggle-born student to partake in. Duelling is a very important tradition of ours, after all."

Serverus Snape was still in a stunned phase, so he nodded only out of habit. Albus chuckled.

"Good, good. Alright, good night boys!" He Flooed back into his own office, leaving Harry and Serverus both stunned.

Meanwhile the green eyed boy didn't know that he was now the proud owner of two out of the three famed Deathly Hallows.

* * *

><p>Apparently the proposed Duelling Club became very popular, especially among the teachers. They were all tired from the constant questions about the Chamber of Secrets. A duelling club could be a nice distraction for the students.<p>

Harry was dragged by his Slytherin mates into the club—he actually preferred learning more (from the library or Tom) about Necromancy and his pursuit of death. Blaise scowled at him, telling Harry that he needed duelling skills very badly, due to the unnatural amount and quality of attention their DADA teacher was giving Harry. Ever since he was found by Snape in Lockhart's main quarters, the DADA professor had lessened his attention on Harry. But he still stole every chance he got to be near to Harry.

Harry often felt the man's eyes on him throughout entire dinners (his mates all warned him: even they could see it clearly. Pansy actually snickered and said that Lockhart and Harry would be a hot couple in a few years. The boys had gone 'eewwe' for several moments before deciding that Pansy had cooties). Sometimes Lockhart would catch Harry and his friends walking in the middle of the corridor and, to quote Pansy's words, 'ogle Harry to death'. The other times Harry happened to be alone when meeting Lockhart outside the classroom, the professor would always smile at him and start to talk to him, and also would never miss any possible chance of skin to skin contact he could make.

Harry, for his part, was quite uncomfortable with all the attention, but the skin-to-skin contact made him feel… warm. It brought to mind a mixture of disgust and deep flattery, all jumbled together. Harry wasn't used to feeling like this and thus, he was confused. When he was confused, Harry always decided to do nothing, for fear that he would be punished (thanks to the Dursleys' abusive doctrine). His friends assumed that Harry was too afraid to complain to other people about it.

And it was just his luck to find that Lockhart happened to be appointed their Duelling Club professor, seconded by Snape. Blaise expressed his relief at the latter, because he knew Snape's presence would deter the perverted paedophile from touching Harry. And maybe Snape could kick his arse in the process, if it came to that.

It was true, in a sense. Serverus Snape actually aimed to use the Duelling Club as a chance to teach the blonde professor a lesson. He could clearly see how the man was so obsessed with Harry. He even found out that Lockhart had been purchasing some of Harry's photos from first year Gryffindor Colin Creevey for a while. It was quite dangerous and it needed to be stopped as soon as possible. He would use the demonstration duel as his means to an end.

And then he realized he had underestimated the other man. Gilderoy Lockhart looked like an idiot peacock that was nothing but all talk. But their ensuing duel changed his mind. It was either one of the best or one of the most terrifying duels he had ever fought, and also one of the most interesting duels the Hogwarts students ever got to see. The students were amazed when the two professors started their duel—it appeared harmless, on the surface (both Snape and Lockhart opted for the Expelliarmus spell and other simple disarming/defence/offense charms); but behind the simple spells, they cast dangerous hexes and jinxes wordlessly. The duelling platform became the main victim of the fight, becoming reduced to ashes after the duel was finished. By the time Minerva McGonagall rushed in to do damage control, half of the room was almost destroyed, with some of the students hiding behind furniture (but yet still watching in deep, breathless amusement).

The sheer power between Lockhart's spells was countered by Snape's skill of deflecting as well as his sense of creativity. The majority of the students didn't know whose side to cheer on, but they really enjoyed the show of power from such simple spells. If duelling was that cool, even with simple spells like Expelliarmus, they really needed to learn how to duel properly.

Harry reacted differently to all this, though. The air in the room felt dark, and Harry became giddy with extreme, polarizing feelings. It felt very intoxicating, watching the continuous dark powers being exchanged between his two professors. He knew they weren't duelling using only the simple spells; their auras showed that both were serious about the fight and downright irked with each other. He didn't know that Lockhart/Marvolo was trying to teach a lesson to Snape for interfering with his and Harry's precious alone time. Of course the Dark Lord made sure to hold back, and he was quite impressed with his inner-circle Death Eater's creative strikes (compared to sheer power, though, of course he was way better). Moreover, Lockhart's body and his current magic reserve weren't enough to actually really kill the Potions Master.

But the duel got really heated; both men forgot that they were supposed to do a simple demonstration. At the height of the duel, Snape conjured some snakes onto the platform. Lockhart/Marvolo smirked, and hissed to the snake.

Harry's eyes went wide.

"…. _Go back…" _was the only thing he understood, but he was sure the DADA professor actually said that in Parseltongue. Professor Lockhart immediately banished the snakes, and nobody in that moment except Snape and Harry realized that Lockhart had to be a Parseltongue.

That was when Snape admitted defeat and Lockhart bowed down, admitting defeat as well. Both decided to yield and the duel finished in a draw. McGonagall entered the room at that moment, and when she saw the silent students and the condition of the duel, she shouted 'Draw!' and continued to berate both men for being childish and inappropriate.

The students were sent back to their dorms. They were talking excitedly and looking forward to the next duelling meeting. Hermione Granger in particular was wondering out loud to anybody who would listen about how on earth the Protego spell could conjure snakes.

Harry Potter, on the other hand, felt nauseated and dizzy.

First, he could understand a bit of Parseltongue. Secondly, his DADA professor apparently could speak Parseltongue. Third, he actually sounded like _Marvolo_ when he hissed…

No. Lockhart couldn't be Marvolo. He just couldn't be. After all, why would the professor not tell him, if this were the case?

Harry went to bed, ignoring Tom's call. He had no time to talk with the diary. He needed to control his emotions and organize his thoughts. He needed time to digest this and think about it. He wouldn't break again. Marvolo was gone, he had left for good. Harry shouldn't hope for any more. No. Hope brought nothing but disappointment.

He was thinking too much.

Yes, he checked that he was safe. Harry's Box was still closed. Harry Potter was safe.

He was safe.

* * *

><p>The next day two students and one ghost were found Petrified.<p>

Colin Creevey was found in the middle of an empty corridor, frozen like a statue with his camera covering his face. Justin Finch-Fletchley was found Petrified with Nearly-Headless Nick beside him, looking all black, as if the ghost had been burnt in an oven. The victims were found in two different places, by some Huflepuffs whose screaming had woken up the entire caste.

Terror struck the heart of Hogwarts: the castle wasn't safe. Rumours swirled that someone who was the Heir of Slytherin had opened the Chamber of Secrets to release the Slytherin Monster, which aimed to kill all filthy Muggle-borns. Gryffindors boasted on how they would slay the monster, Hufflepuffs stayed silent and kept to themselves for protection, and Ravenclaws all headed to the library for further information on the monster. Slytherin students were the only ones acting like nothing was amiss. Because to them, the Slytherin Heir wouldn't hurt a Slytherin.

Harry wondered about it, and wrote down all his thoughts and theories inside the diary. The diary reacted quite violently to the news, and once it calmed down it asked Harry to let him use the boy's body to check for something important. Harry wondered whether he should let Tom possess him or not. In the end he decided maybe it was for the best and he let the diary possess him.

It was Halloween night.

"_Finally you __have__ come down here." _Hissing sounds welcomed Tom when he opened the door to the main chamber. Tom was frozen. He knew that sound.

It was his own voice.

What he saw betrayed his senses: he was expecting some idiot who'd tried to imitate Annana by using other means of Petrifaction. He wasn't expecting to see his own older self, possessing the body of a very showy man with gleaming teeth and golden hair. And he wasn't ready when suddenly Annana struck out at him, only to realize the damn serpent actually wanted a _cuddle_.

_Harry! Harry! Harry! You are back! _

"_He is not Harry, Annana. But he w__ill__ be, very soon. My dear younger self, come back to me. I need you to join me __again__._"

"_What?" _Tom asked. "_You want us to merge back __together__?" _

"_Yes. Together we will regain our sanity and charisma, and I can implement my new plan to restructure the Ministry of Magic."_

Tom the diary hissed back, feeling threatened. He had been an independent entity for almost a decade and now his older self wanted him to come back? As much as he knew it was the wise thing to do, he wouldn't want to be caught dead in a body of such a moronic peacock. And what could he do to threaten his elder self? He only had Harry's body… but then, Annana's act made it clear that the serpent has a previous connection with Harry. Maybe it will work.

"_Don't you realize that if I leave this body, Harry __will__ die? He h__as__ no natural Slytherin blessings in his vein__s__, and __he__ wouldn't be able to withstand Annana's deathly stare__.__"_

The realization hit Marvolo hard. He hadn't realized that Harry had lost all of Slytherin's blessings once his Horcrux had left the boy. Yes, he'd miscalculated that move. Beside them, Annana whined sadly, realizing that she couldn't let Harry see her anymore because the boy would die if she so much as glanced at him.

"_I admit I didn't think it was possible. But you are right. Maybe we should wait before joining back together." _

Tom the diary stared at the DADA professor. Something was tickling his common sense. "_Why are you so hung up on this boy? Why does Harry mean so much to you?" _

Marvolo stared back, coldly. Both of them assessed each other. They knew each other too well, for they were the same entity in two different bodies. While Tom knew that Marvolo definitely was hiding something from him, Marvolo knew that he should come out with a more plausible explanation for his younger self. He knew that the young Tom wouldn't accept a stupid reason like '_because he cared about Harry Potter_'. His younger self had sworn that Tom Marvolo Riddle would never be capable of caring about others. Lord Voldemort lived for himself, and any other beings were just tools to be implemented, or trash to be eliminated, depending on the situation.

And frankly, Marvolo wouldn't admit that he actually cared about Harry. No, never. Harry was just a good… minion. Yes. An exploitable source of magic. A minion at most. Pet, maybe?

"_If you merge with me, you'll know __the reason,__" _Marvolo hissed, simultaneously vaguely answering Tom's question and piquing the Horcrux's interest. Using the element of surprise, he cast a spell to get Harry's body into a full Body-Bind, and carried the small, motionless boy up the corridor. Tom watched him through a hateful glare, but he could do nothing because he was not strong enough to release the spell from Harry's body. And he watched, silently brooding, as Marvolo gently cradled Harry's lithe body up the exit of the Chamber.

* * *

><p>I hope that answer your questions?<p>

Yes, it was Lockhart Voldemort that use Annana to petrify student, so that he could coax the Tom diary out.

Yes, Lockhart is possessed by Voldemort. Why? Because it is funny. Lockhart is a natural pedo bear, and Voldie wants Harry. Nice and easy.

Why the hell Lockhart Voldemort doesnt tell Harry he was Marvolo? Because he didn't want to be disappointed. Voldemort was subconsciously afraid that Harry would be angry at him for the abandonment. he wasn't ready to face Harry's wrath. Subconsciously. And so, he thought he was doing the right thing.

What is Slytherin's blessing? Remember I was saying in my previous chapter (before re-posting) that parseltongue can be learned but the ability of Slytherin descendant to control and not die from Annana's stare was because of the magic cascading from Slytherin himself? So while Harry could learn Parseltongue back (shown by his recognition of some hissing sound) he was NOT be immune to the stare.

Will he be immune in the future? Maybe.

Why Dumbledore suddenly turned into a good man? He is not. He is still a manipulative bastard. He does what he thought as right. arent we all?

Any other question?

Please review! A simple thank you for the new chapter can bring joy you never know to me, you see.


	13. Chapter 13

Thank you so much for the reviews! Trust me, if I can have my way, I would paired up Marvolo and 13 years old Harry in no time at all (It's just that paedophile is not widely accepted. And Well, Harry is already angsty enough without adding underage sex inside this story).

This is the BETA-ed Version.

Enjoy!

* * *

><p>With a start, Harry woke up to find that he was back in his dormitory.<p>

Feeling as though something was missing, he looked around and realized that Tom was gone. Hurriedly, he mentally flicked though his memory bank, realizing there was some kind of information gap. The last thing he remembered was welcoming the strange aura coming from the pages of the book, into his head. And then, everything went blank. And now, here he was, lying on top of his bed.

Outside, the moon was at its peak. It was still silent around him; most of the Slytherin boys never snored. Occasionally Crabbe and Goyle snored but that night, the dorm was dead silent. Harry looked around. The curtain around his bed was closed. He peeked around the folds, only to find that the diary was sitting on top of his bedside table.

He slipped out of bed, opening the diary. But somehow, the little book didn't feel quite the same. For some reason, the diary was not emitting its usual magic. Harry pulled out a quill from his bag and wrote down in the pages.

_Tom? _

The diary was silent. It didn't absorb his writing this time; the ink remained, unmoving, on the page. Tom wasn't replying. Harry's hand started to shake.

_Tom? _

His writing was still there. Two _Tom?_'s were still written on the paper. No answer. It wasn't being absorbed. Harry pushed his magical aura into the paper. Nothing. Usually Tom loved it when Harry submitted his magical aura while he was writing to the diary. Still nothing.

The boy bit his lip. No. He knew this feeling too well, he felt the déjà vu. He recognized this feeling from before. It felt like that time when Marvolo had… left him.

No, no. Tom should be there. Tom was in the diary. Tom was just sleeping. The diary could reply to him, of course it needed to sleep from time to time as well.

So with shaky hands, the boy continued to write.

_Tom? _

_Are you there? _

_Tom? _

And he called his friend's name, again and again, until morning came and Blaise pulled him to the Great Hall for breakfast. The boy meekly followed Blaise's orders, showering and preparing his bag as fast as he could before shoving the diary into his pocket. His mind was blank. Harry was still trying to believe the impossible. Yes, he still believed that maybe Tom the diary was just tired and unable to answer him. Didn't Marvolo do it something like this last time as well? The unicorn blood had knocked him out and that was why he didn't answer Harry's call… thinking about unicorn made his chest feel tighter, so Harry refrained from remembering the beautiful unicorn and its foal.

Yes. Tom was still there. Tom wasn't Marvolo, Tom wouldn't simply leave like that without saying anything. Tom was just tired. Just… tired. And so, Harry kept writing the diary's name, _Tom,_ over and over again, even on the breakfast table.

Blaise watched him, worried. His petite friend looked like an obsessed, possessed soul, filling pages and pages with a single name, _Tom_. As if he were trying to call someone by using the book. Remembering that Harry had told him once that the book had sentience, Blaise realized that Harry was trying to call the book's name. _Tom_.

"Harry?"

The boy didn't reply; he kept writing the name on the paper, _Tom_, again and again. Blotches of ink marred his hands. The already-thin boy ignored his plate in favour of writing in the book. And what concerned Blaise the most was, the more Harry wrote in the book, the more despaired he looked.

Harry looked like he was a breath away from crying.

Blaise patted Harry's shoulder. "Harry?"

The boy turned to look at Blaise, and the emerald eyes made such an impression on Blaise's mind. They were glassy and desperate. The very picture of pathetic. Or denial.

"Harry? Stop writing. Eat your food!"

Harry shook his head. "N' h'ngry".

"Harry, don't be like this. Stop writing! What are you doing?"

"N'thing," Harry shook his head. He kept writing, but the quality of his writing became worse; his hands shook even more obviously and the quill was more forcefully pressed onto the paper.

"Harry!"

Harry suddenly closed the book and put on an exaggerated show just to please the other boy. He took his fork and stabbed the egg on his plate. The boy put it in his mouth, and chewed. Blaise watched as the boy slowly, mechanically chewed, his hands rubbing his eyes. They were red. Maybe Harry hadn't slept well the night before.

"Did you sleep at all last night?" the Italian boy asked worriedly to his best friend, but he got no response until the very end of breakfast. Blaise groaned. Harry could be so stubborn sometimes. If he didn't know Harry better, he would think that Harry was throwing a tantrum. But Harry wasn't capable of throwing a tantrum. Harry was not spoiled; he was like the weird loner boy who'd never, as a child, learned the concept that everyone is born with human rights. Blaise grimaced when he remembered the news he'd read in the Daily Prophet about Harry's last visit to St. Mungo's about all the injuries Harry had acquired. About his abusive relatives and the traumatic childhood environment the boy had grown up in. The descriptions were so horrific that Blaise's famous, normally stoic, beauty-queen mother had cried over the newspaper article.

Blaise took a good, long look at Harry. He was still scrawny and petite. It was no mystery, with that kind of appetite the boy had; Harry was lucky that he still continued to grow at all. His eyes were wet and red. His body was shaking and his face looked pale. These were not good signs. Harry was trying to keep everything, his emotional angst, only to himself again. Blaise knew the signs, because he'd had his fair share of pain as well. Watching your own mother changing (and probably killing) her own husbands every other year did not exactly form a pleasant childhood memories. Blaise had given up his childish hope of ever finding out his real father—he couldn't even get one permanent stepfather. Yes, so Blaise knew of pain. But Harry's pain took the crown, and Blaise watched as the boy buried everything deep down, all by himself.

The boy always tried to do everything, no matter how difficult the task, alone, as though he believed that nobody would ever care to help him. The boy was so used to being alone that all the efforts Blaise had put into supporting Harry always ended up being immediately unconsciously rejected or ignored. It was very sad, frustrating and irritating, especially when one of the main indoctrinated values of being a Slytherin was to support each other in the House of cunningness, against the whole world. Sometimes, when Harry got on his last nerve, Draco needed to refrain Blaise from cursing Harry for being such a hard-headed idiot. Blaise always tried desperately to make Harry understand that a pain shared is a pain _less_.

And in the next hour, they would have to attend their DADA lesson with none other than Professor Lockhart, who still posed a great danger (in Blaise's opinion) to Harry's welfare. Blaise groaned. Only Harry could have that kind of rotten luck.

* * *

><p>Harry continued writing down in the diary. He was already up to the middle of the book. He had filled half of the diary with only Tom's name, filling in even every empty corner in every page. <em>Tom<em>. _Tom_. _Tom_. His writing hand was tired. But Harry kept writing down the name, because he _still_ believed.

"Harr—Potter, what are you writing? Are you listening to me?"

Harry looked up to see his professor staring at him. Harry could see a bit of concern in those blue—no, reddish eyes. His professor's eyes had suddenly, inexplicably, changed from blue into red, with black slits for pupils. And then Harry felt his professor's gaze landing on the diary he was writing in.

"…My child, this won't do. Please pay attention. That book is not suitable for this class and whatever you are trying to summon …is _gone_."

The last word struck him. _Gone_. Vanished. He knew the professor perhaps didn't mean _vanish_ in that particular sense; Professor Lockhart surely wanted him to simply put away the diary during his class. But his choice of words had actually opened the boy's eyes. _Gone_. Disappeared. Tom was _gone_.

He felt some kind of anger fill his chest. Why? Why did the professor say that? Why had the professor confirmed his worst fear? He had been trying so hard to keep his hopes up, damn it! He was … he was… Tom should be there. Tom wouldn't just leave him without saying anything, like this. Tom wouldn't disappear just like that. Tom wasn't Marvolo. Tom was…

Tom _was_ Marvolo.

And then the tears he had been withholding were released in a torrential downpour. Yes, he had just let himself realize whatever he was unconsciously trying to conceal. The aura he had felt from Tom was exactly the same as what Marvolo had felt like. He had been looking up to Tom, as he'd looked up to Marvolo. Tom's way of speaking was very similar to Marvolo's. Tom had been there to teach him and guide his studies, just as Marvolo had. Tom had even encouraged him sometimes, and listened to his stories and innermost thoughts, just as Marvolo had. Tom had been there, solely for Harry's sake because he was the only one who could talk to the spirit of the diary. Just like how Marvolo was there only for Harry, because Harry was the only one who could listen to Marvolo.

He missed Marvolo so _much_. And now he was fooling himself because he was afraid that once he might have told Tom that he thought Tom was really Marvolo, which, thinking back, may have caused Marvolo to leave him alone again. Because… Because Marvolo had only been giving him another chance. Marvolo had, for his own reasons perhaps, come back as Tom so that Harry wouldn't recognize him. It was only Harry's own childish reasoning, but it made sense in his head. Marvolo had been giving him a second chance. He came back for Harry in the form of Tom.

And now he'd lost Marvolo again. He'd failed Tom. He'd made Tom go away. The feelings of despair and helplessness infiltrated his mind and heart, the same feelings that he'd experienced when Marvolo had abandoned him. What had Harry done to upset them so much? Why did they leave? Marvolo came back as Tom and then now he had left Harry again. Why? Was it because Harry was a freak? A useless brat? A worthless freak?

_Useless. Worthless. Freak. _

His whole body stiffened, became slack. The quill left his slacking palm. His body suddenly felt cold. It was like being suddenly plunged into ice cold water. Harry had been abandoned once again. He was defeated. His methods of hoping always proved useless, worthless. No matter what he did, he would never make others satisfied with him. That's why people left. No matter how hard he tried to please, it was never enough. And foolishly, Harry had always hoped that maybe this time around, this time, he could make it right, and someone would come to care for him. He kept expecting something that always ended up disappointing him. No more, please. He'd had enough.

"Harry, why are you crying? Are you hurt anywhere?" Harry registered the professor's concerned voice in his head somewhere, but he couldn't concentrate. His Harry's Box was shaking, threatening to open. No. He couldn't face the pain of abandonment again. He'd had enough of that. Please.

"Do you need to go to the infirmary?" the professor asked him. Harry blinked and realized that his cheeks were wet with tears. He rubbed his face and shook his head.

"I am fine, sir."

"No, child. You are clearly not fine. I will take you to the infirmary…"

"I can walk there by myself, sir. Thank you." Harry rubbed his eyes, trying to stop the tears. Embarrassing. He didn't deserve to cry. He had failed Marvolo twice. It was his fault. Harry didn't deserve to cry. He was a useless freak. Crying was only acceptable if he were truly 'normal' and useful. No. He shouldn't cry.

He didn't deserve to cry and feel sad. After all, it was his own inadequacy that had failed Marvolo. He packed his books and went out from the room, ignoring the curious looks and pitying coos from his classmates.

He walked as fast as he could. Where was he going again? Infirmary? Harry wiped his face again. It was still wet. His chest really hurt so much. He needed to go somewhere and calm himself down before coming to the infirmary. He didn't want to trouble Madam Pomfrey. So instead of walking towards the direction of the infirmary, Harry went upstairs. He wanted to run away. Somewhere that was dark, peaceful and narrow, like his cupboard in the house on Privet Drive.

He walked through a corridor, only to find it led to a dead end. Harry bit his lip. He was so pathetic. He couldn't even find a place to sit down and calm himself. At that exact time, suddenly a door appeared beside him, on the wall which previously held no such door. Harry was sure he had never seen that door before.

Feeling curious and already desperate for a place to run away, he opened the door.

It was dark, and filled with various random things. Harry looked around, and realized it was the perfect place to hide himself. Full of objects that he could hide behind, the room was also dark and silent.

He entered the room, slowly walking through the piles of things around him. He found all sorts of articles, from books to chairs, to luggage and even pillows. He even saw something that suspiciously looked like a Muggle television, but he wasn't really sure. There was a cupboard as well, and suddenly—Harry stopped.

In front of him was the Mirror he had seen in his first year. The mirror which had taken his magic, and the last thing he'd remembered before Marvolo had left him. The Mirror that had given him the Philosopher's Stone.

This time, Harry didn't spell out the words on the mirror. He didn't want to call out the scary old hermit. He didn't have anything to wish for anyway. The mirror wouldn't give him death. So Harry just watched the surface of the mirror, looking at himself in it. Scrawny, ugly little freak. His green orbs were wet from crying, his thin face was full of tear streaks and his hair was even messier than usual. His hair was longer now, since Professor Snape had never reminded him that he needed to cut it.

And then suddenly some shadows appeared behind him. Surprised, Harry turned around just to see that he was still alone in the cold, dark room. He turned back to glimpse the mirror again and this time, he saw two adults, one woman and one man, standing behind him, smiling.

His eyes hungrily took in the details of those adults. The lady had red hair and green eyes; she was very pretty. The man was tall, his black hair messy, his brown eyes framed with glasses not unlike the ones Harry wore before Marvolo had corrected his eye sight.

"…" Harry couldn't believe it. He touched the mirror. It was cold. But the image was too much. "…Mom? Dad?"

Both adults nodded. Harry took a deep breath and stepped nearer to the mirror. His parents smiled at him. Harry smiled back. It was too good to be true. He'd never seen a real picture of his parents', but they looked like they were his. They should be his, right? He could… could he hope once more? "Mom? Dad?"

The images nodded again.

"Mom… Dad… this is me, Harry." Harry smiled. "I am here… Can I come there, to be with you?"

The images just kept smiling at him.

"Mom, Dad… you know I am Harry, right?"

The images smiled again, but neither of them spoke.

"Mom? You love me, right? So can I come there? How can I come there?" Harry whispered, desperately trying to get his parents' images to speak. "Dad? Can you hear me?"

The images stayed quiet. But they smiled at him. His father put a hand on top of his shoulder. Harry quickly grabbed at the hand, only to feel air and his own bony shoulder. A pang of loss filled his chest. But the mirror still showed his father with his hand on Harry's shoulder. Harry closed his eyes. He couldn't get them to speak. He couldn't cross over to where they were. So he could only imagine how the warmth of his parent's touch would feel like. The touch he could never had. He wanted them so much.

Then, Harry sat down on the cold floor and started to sob.

* * *

><p>When he woke up, Harry didn't know how many hours had passed. He had fallen asleep in front the mirror. His eyes were so dry and painful. Forcing himself to move, Harry crawled towards the door, on his back, using his shoulder blades to push himself along. He needed to return to the 'real' world. He knew the mirror was just a figment of his imagination. His parents weren't alive anymore.<p>

Stepping out from the room, Harry saw the last person he'd ever in his life expected to see in Hogwarts.

Duddley Dursley was standing in front of him.

Harry was shocked, and so was Duddley. The slimmer boy paled. Trained since childhood from too many cruel rounds of the made-up game Harry Hunting, Harry sprinted in the other direction as fast as he could, avoiding the whale of a boy.

He didn't look back until he'd reached the Slytherin common room and had slammed the door behind him. He was panicking. No way was _Duddley_ possibly able to come to Hogwarts. If he somehow were able, then Harry was definitely having the worst luck of his life. He didn't want Duddley to be there. He didn't want to have to go through another round of "Hunt for Harry" or other forms of bullying from Duddley, ever again.

When he'd recovered from his panic, he saw that most of his second year mates were watching him in worry, or curiosity. Harry swallowed hard.

He felt like a zoo animal in a cage, watched by people who viewed him as a morbid attraction.

* * *

><p>Unexpectedly, the rest of the school year passed relatively peacefully afterwards.<p>

Blaise became even more protective over Harry ever since he'd cried in the DADA lesson and had gone missing for several hours before being found running into the Slytherin common room in panic. At first, Harry didn't explain any of his behaviour to anyone, even though he could sense they were worried. He felt guilty and tried to put them at ease by smiling more, but apparently this only increased their suspicions. In the end, they approached Harry and asked what had happened. Harry needed to be honest with them, or they would go to Professor Snape. Harry in the end told them that it had been an especially bad day and that he also missed his parents. It was half the truth anyway. The story earned him some pity from Pansy and the other Slytherin second year girls. Some upper class men who'd heard the confession also sneaked some candies into Harry's pockets.

Furthermore, when Harry started to mentally analyse the whole incident again, he realized that if Tom _was_ Marvolo, then the only one who could really open the Chamber of Secrets was Professor Lockhart. Professor Lockhart was the only one who was capable of speaking in Parseltongue (unless Harry had mistaken the Professor's surprised hissing as Parseltongue). Some thought had started to nag in the back of his head. He was almost there… he almost understood something. But Harry let it go in the end, because he knew it wasn't his problem. He didn't want to find the solution to that problem because he didn't want to be punished for it afterwards. And he avoided the DADA professor as much as he could. Apparently the professor was a bit distracted as well, because he didn't seek out Harry's company anymore, although the stares directed at Harry throughout meals and classes persisted.

Professor Snape was another matter altogether. He had avoided Professor Lockhart like the plague ever since the duel. However, he also seemed to stay away from Harry as well. Harry was expecting that anyway. He knew that nobody would want to be his permanent guardian. Professor Snape had been so kind to him. He shouldn't complain. The professor would talk to him every now and then, but it was nowhere near as intimate as it had been in the past. Especially whenever he saw Professor Lockhart around Harry. Instead, the Head of Slytherin House became even more silent and brooded more often in his quarters, often spending hours researching something by himself.

The Headmaster sometimes came over to Harry to ask the boy whether he was enjoying his new wand. Harry usually parroted whatever answer he thought the old Headmaster would wish to hear, so that Professor Dumbledore would leave him alone. With no more Tom or Marvolo or Professor Snape to guide him, he opted to run away whenever he saw the oldest man in the castle.

Thus, Harry stayed inside his Slytherin dorm during the Christmas Holiday, because the Professor neglected to invite him back inside the Professor's quarters. Harry didn't want to press the matter. True, he missed his room in the Professor's quarters, but if the Professor didn't want to see him, he could still stay inside the dorm.

* * *

><p>Christmas came and went. Harry gave presents to Professor Snape, all his Slytherin mates and the house elves. In return, he got ten times his usual number of presents: each and every one of the elves who loved him gave him individual presents in the form of baked goods (which Harry shared with his mates who'd stayed behind, and the Professors at the breakfast table) and many pairs of knitted socks; plus each of his mates gave him books, sweets and garments of high quantity. Blaise in particular sent Harry a small flying Snitch designed for playing catch. Professor Snape silently thanked him over Christmas morning for his gift and in return, the professor gave Harry a necklace with a green snake pendant. Inside the package was a note saying that Harry should wear this necklace at all times.<p>

Professor Lockhart had also sent him something; but it was inspected by Professor Snape first before Harry could open it. Harry found that the Professor had given him a set of advanced defence-spell books. Harry thanked the blonde professor (who had actually gone away for the holiday, and thus Harry needed to wait until the day all the students returned to Hogwarts by the end of Christmas holiday) for the gift. Professor Lockhart patted his head lovingly, asking whether Harry was fine. Harry answered as he always did, and he gave the Professor another gift he had prepared in the kitchen after he realized the Professor had given him something for Christmas. Professor Lockhart looked intrigued, and he opened the gift straightaway. He smiled fondly when he found a box full of cupcakes with bright coloured icing on each top. Harry sheepishly told him that he'd made it himself and that he hoped the professor would enjoy it.

It was only then Harry realized that Professor Lockhart was watching him with a strange glint in his eyes, as if he wanted to eat Harry whole, just like what Pansy had once said.

Feeling uncomfortable from the attention, the boy ran away. Actually, it was not only the professor showering unwanted attention on him. Harry also felt uncomfortable with the constant attention his housemates were giving him most of the time. The attention had only escalated after the incident of his crying in the DADA lesson. So he often ran to the library for solace.

There, he actually ran into the red-headed prefect who'd given him a hug a year ago. Harry was blushing from embarrassment when he realized who the boy was; but the boy just smiled gently at him and introduced himself as Percy Weasley, the older brother of Ronald Weasley. The boy started to guide him through the shelves of books in the library, and Harry found that Ron Weasley's brother was nowhere as bad as his little brother.

Percy was like the proper older brother he never had. Although the prefect had the unhealthy tendency of strictly adhering to all the rules and regulations of the castle, even the ones that made no sense, Harry felt that the prefect's attention on him was sincere. Maybe Percy only pitied him, but nevertheless, he felt good when he was talking to Percy. And sometimes Percy would compare Harry to his own little brothers. Percy would longingly tell Harry that he wanted Harry as his real little brother. Compared to the twins and Ron, Harry was like an angel. Percy told Harry in bitter tones that he was always being misunderstood and pushed around by his little brothers, especially by the twins.

It seemed that the Weasley boy had a certain image of a 'perfect little brother'. He was clearly disappointed by his own little siblings, who never listened and even at times pranked him. Thus, the red headed boy found Harry as the sweet example of a 'perfect little brother'. Percy also found that hugging Harry gave them both a feeling that could only be described as a type of familiar euphoria. Percy was glad because he could hug his 'little brother' like he was supposed to do as an older brother, whereas Harry was happy because it felt nice. They ended up sitting together in the library sometimes, doing their homework together, and Percy would pamper Harry like he would to his 'little brother' and Harry would look up to Percy, which in turn made the older boy happy.

The Weasley prefect also helped Harry in his studies. The boy checked and proofread Harry's essays and this greatly improved the boy's marks. Although Harry's studies on Necromancy were halted, the boy didn't truly mind and instead he started to go through the tomes he'd gotten from his father's vault. The first book he tackled was about Animagi, and advanced transfigurations. It was hard to comprehend and sometimes Harry would read a sentence five times and still not understand what it was talking about. He didn't dare asking for help because he felt like he was doing something forbidden. Nevertheless, he also filled his spare time with Quidditch practice (where Harry played as the spare Seeker) and his study group with other Slytherin second years.

Percy Weasley proved to be a great distraction for Harry, but the boy didn't forget about his 'kin' in the kitchen. Sometimes he would visit the elves after dinner, and recharge his verbal batteries while having fun helping the elves wash the dishes. A handful of elves disliked him for it, but the majority shielded Harry from their distasteful attitudes, so Harry was blissfully unaware of what was happening. And through all the various interactions and distractions, Harry managed to gather himself together without ever having to go to Professor Snape.

* * *

><p>Near the end of the semester, there was a major announcement. Professor Lockhart was being hailed as the person who had caught the 'Slytherin Monster' from the Chamber of Secrets. This was broadcast on the news, and every single student was told that Hagrid the Groundskeeper was the culprit. Apparently the half-giant man had opened the Chamber once when he was still a student at Hogwarts and Gilderoy Lockhart, the hero, had found evidence of him doing this. Hagrid kept an army of giant Acromantulas under his command, and the half-giant would reportedly Petrifiy students so that he could feed them to his Acromantulas. But Gilderoy Lockhart saved the day by catching both Hagrid in action and the Acromantulas feeding. He also pointed out that by Petrifying his own dog first, Hagrid had initially removed much suspicion from himself.<p>

The Ministry demanded to put Hagrid in Azkaban. The Headmaster was dead set against it, but in the end he lost and the groundskeeper was taken by several Aurors. It was the last time the students saw Hagrid before the end of the semester holiday.

The news was taken differently by the students. Huflepuff students were just glad that the culprit had been arrested and that no more victims would fall prey, especially after their Head of House, Professor Pomona Sprout, announced that the mandrakes would be harvested in a few days. Professor Snape then would be able to create a potion to reverse the Petrification of the victims. The members of Slytherin House were proud that their Head of House was the Potions Master who saved the victims with his mandrakes potions. Ravenclaw distantly speculated the heroic act of Gilderoy Lockhart (whose fanbase had dramatically increased) while Gryffindors were silent because they refused to believe that Hagrid was the culprit.

Harry couldn't believe it either, but he took the news in stride as usual. He had more personal issues to face anyway. Thus, Harry passed most of his end-of-semester exams with flying colours (he knew he would pass everything except History of Magic). Blaise was groaning about the Transfiguration exam while Draco was boasting about his Potions exam. Then, the summer holiday came and all students except Harry left Hogwarts on the Hogwarts Express.

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><p>Next chapter: Voldie and cupcakes! LOL.<p>

Review please? My week is really bad and it would be greatly appreciated if I can have some support. THANK YOU for all of you who had reviewed beforehand! By the way, do you guys actually expecting a reply from me?

Ciao!

H.


	14. Chapter 14

This is a betaed chapter. Thank you so much, my dear Beta Blind_Alchemist! XD

Enjoy!

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><p>Contrary to the Wizarding public's widespread belief, the Dark Lord actually liked sweets.<p>

Or, to be more accurate, he was able to at least tolerate them.

Well, alright; maybe, deep down, he knew he hated them, but he still could eat them. Especially sweets like cupcakes. With colourful icing on top of them. Yes, he could eat something like this. This was truly wonderful.

Because _Harry_ had made it.

Marvolo stared at the box of cupcakes on top of his table in great concentration. Maybe he could use his magic to turn the cupcakes into something more bitter, or saltier. Surely turning a sweet cupcake into a bitter cupcake could not possibly be that hard? A cupcake devoid of taste would be wonderful as well. Well, the truth was, he didn't really care about the _taste_. The tricky bit was to change the taste or the substance in those cupcakes without altering the outer appearance at all, or the shape of the whole thing… it was akin to changing a vial of mature Draught of Living Death into a Wolfsbane potion, without touching the vial or adding any ingredients. That was so difficult, even trickier than drafting a plan to raid Hogwarts, for his Death Eaters.

And that was the moment Duddley Dursley came into the office.

"…_What are you doing_?" the whale of a boy hissed in Parseltongue. "…_Are those__ cupcakes_?" he asked, looking interested, but then scowled when he realized his mouth was leaking drool.

Covering up his embarrassment for being caught staring at some—_Harry's_—cupcakes, Marvolo cleared his throat in disgust and stood up. "_Why are you here? I __thought__I__ told you to stay with Annana in the Chamber!"_

The boy looked positively sick. _"I am just bored, alright? And this body __feels__ really disgusting. The feeling of hunger this boy __experiences__ every single second is unhealthy. And… have you heard anything from Harry?"_

"_What?"_Marvolo focused back on his Horcrux—who was currently residing inside the spare body of Harry's pig of a cousin—when he heard the word 'Harry'. "_Why?"_

The obese boy closed the walls of his mind and shook his head. "_Never mind. I cannot wait until __we__ merge. You owe me one."_

Marvolo sneered at his Horcrux. The body of Harry's despicable Muggle cousin, which he'd taken with him the last time he'd visited 'number 4 Privet Drive,' was finally proving useful. By putting Tom inside the boy's body, Marvolo was provided ample control over the younger soul of Tom Riddle. Since it was the body of Muggle, Tom wouldn't have access to any magical sources and thus, even just performing 'Lumos' would be very taxing for him. It was the perfect non-magical jail to contain his first Horcrux before the year's end. But still, because he was basically still the descendant of Slytherin, Annana's stare wouldn't kill him.

It would be the perfect jail for Tom Riddle, until the day Marvolo finished his day job as a teacher in Hogwarts.

"_Can I have one cupcake? This body is craving __for__ sugar."_

"_No."_Marvolo was surprised at how fast he answered, and how possessive he felt towards the cupcakes. He hated the sweets alright, but it was a present Harry had given him, and no, he wouldn't share even with his younger self.

"_Fine. Suit yourself."_The fat boy left through the hole, trying clumsily to climb up. Marvolo sneered. He had wanted to knock Tom into a state of obliviousness that would last until the day his teaching contract was finished, but then again, angering his younger self would be troublesome for his re-emerging emotional stability. Everything always turned out to be so complicated. He knew himself the best, and he could rightfully say that his mind was more complicated than a can of twisted flobberworms.

Realizing he had spent too much time thinking about stupid matter like cupcakes, Marvolo opened his drawer and pulled out the magical briefcase filled with documents and letters he needed to read before his debut at the Ministry of Magic. Lucius had done his job perfectly and when the time was right, the world would welcome Thomas Marvolo Riddle back as their behind-the-stage-King. But now he needed to set his affairs in order and the amount of documents he had to read was enormous. He hated paperwork. But if he wanted to control the Ministry from within, using their own elements, then pushing paperwork constituted a major component of the job's requirements.

His debut stage was already nearly prepared: he would start his Ministry career as the Head Deputy of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement—a.k.a., the Auror Department—just one seat under the Department Head, Amelia Bones. Lucius had bribed and pulled so many strings to get his Lord in this coveted position, and he'd succeeded in giving Marvolo the best seat he could obtain: not too low for the prospect of quickly climbing up the Ministry ladder, but not too high that people might start immediately suspecting something about it.

Thus, he was waiting patiently until the end of the term. By then, he would have the Tom Riddle Diary Horcrux, Hufflepuff's Cup, and maybe either the Locket or the Ring (it didn't matter which one became his last Horcrux, as long as the main part of his soul had returned by then, and he would be back to his former glorious, cunning and attractive self) and then he would have his original body back. Hopefully with all the natural hairs attached.

So he needed to be patient until the end of the year. He had already achieved his goal of getting the Diary back. Yet he couldn't use Harry as his emotional and mental outlet, his "escape" anymore. Since the duel with Serverus, Marvolo had sensed that the Potion Master had long last realized, or at least, had suspected who he really was. The Potions Professor had since then taken great measures to avoid him and Harry. Now, Marvolo also felt Dumbledore's watchful eyes on him most of the time. Marvolo then knew that Serverus had gone to Dumbledore and had confided in him his suspicions. Thus, to reduce the others' suspicions, he should refrain from lavishing too much attention on Harry. It was a pity, though. Harry was the only source of amusement he had in that castle. Nevertheless, he would return to Harry when he'd gained his body and most of his soul back. At that point, he would openly give the boy one of his deepest wishes: a hug.

And maybe then, he could apologize… No, he was the Dark Lord, and the Dark Lord never apologized! But he felt guilt eating away at his chest, especially when he saw how Tom's disappearance had hurt the child. Harry's tears were so honest. And the boy, as usual, refused any sort of help. Marvolo had been so worried, but he couldn't search for the child, as he had another class after.

He was relieved when he saw Harry at dinner time. The boy looked pale and dejected, and he was fussed over by his Slytherin classmates. The attention made the boy look uncomfortable. Marvolo silently sneered behind his mask, cursing those imbeciles who tried to get closer to his Harry. They didn't know Harry at all, like how Marvolo knew Harry. All they did was cause the boy to alienate himself even more. True to his predictions, he watched as the boy closed himself away to the world again. Tom Marvolo Riddle wasn't the poster boy for adolescent mental health, but he knew that if Harry kept doing this, someday he would go completely insane, maybe to an even more severe degree than what Marvolo had undergone in making his six Hocruxes. The boy was practically killing himself slowly. And Marvolo would never let the child achieve his death wish. Never.

But the weird thing was, every time he tried to get closer to Harry, somehow random obstacles and various hindrances would come up, get in his way, and prevent him from talking to the boy. It happened every single time. Whenever he saw Harry in the corridor, somehow, somebody always managed to pass him by at that exact moment and distract him; or another teacher or student would call to him and ask him about something; or he'd suddenly remember that he had something to do, that would steer him away from the direction of Harry. Even in class, he couldn't assign Harry any more detentions because of Dumbledore's aroused suspicions. Honestly, it seemed like the only time they could actually talk was when Harry himself wanted to approach Marvolo. Even then, Harry would immediately jet afterwards, like when he ran straightaway after delivering the cupcakes. Marvolo suspected that Snape had something to do with everything, but since he couldn't jeopardize his current position by adding to the growing list of suspicions of the Potions Master, Marvolo just kept to himself, trying to be content with just watching Harry as much as he could from a distance.

He just hoped that Harry still remembered his promise to stay alive for 'Marvolo' until he could get his body back. And then, he would take Harry under his wing.

* * *

><p>Sliding back through the tunnel and into the Chamber of Secrets, Tom Riddle was well aware that he was not amused. He was trapped inside a whale of a boy's body and now he was without his usual magic as well. The only capabilities he'd retained were his ability to speak Parseltongue, and his Slytherin-endowed blessings. Annana had long given up trying to eat him, and since Tom wasn't as 'adorable' (that was the exact term Annana had used) as Harry, the serpent had chosen to ignore the younger self of Marvolo. He hated the body so much, especially after Marvolo told him whose body it was. His older self was utterly disgusted by the Muggle boy and his Squib mother, and Tom had no choice but to agree with him when he heard the story behind Harry's 10 years of abuse in their household.<p>

Tom himself wanted to torture the boy, but he would do it once he re-merged with Marvolo. He would burn this body slowly—until the fat deposited under the skin of the belly melted away, slowly and painfully. He would cut the boy's eyelids so that he himself could watch how he burned in the dancing flames on top of his stomach… oh, there were so many possibilities, Tom was almost giddy from excitement.

But it would all come later. Revenge—it would be so sweet. Now he was still trapped inside this foolish body and his older self was keeping him down in the dark with Annana, in the Chamber of Secrets. It was very boring for Tom. The only thing he could do all day was immersing himself in the books from Slytherin's library, of which he had already read most of. He chose to re-read these books, or he would be spending all his time instead trying to eat as much as humanly possible, because this disgusting body felt hunger all the time.

There was actually one thing he didn't want his older self to know. He actually went once to the Room of Requirement, to get a library book. The Room of Requirement granted one unlimited access to any Hogwarts library book, as long as the book wasn't taken out from the room. Tom needed to research for the Necromancy questions Harry had asked last time, and so he went there hoping that he could gain something.

Imagine his shock when he saw Harry come out from the room. Both were shocked at the sight of the other, and neither moved an inch for several long seconds. Tom could see how pale and dejected Harry was. His eyes were red and cracked; it seemed like the boy had been crying and crying. Of course, Tom was instantly curious as to why Harry had been crying, but he was robbed of his chance to ask when Harry turned and ran away, so fast, away from him. Tom in his current obese body couldn't stand a chance of catching up. And now that he thought about it, it was good that Harry had gone away before he could ask the boy what had happened—he could have easily blown his cover. With this, at least Harry could dismiss his sighting of Tom as a figment of his imagination, or a hallucination.

He was very sure that if his older self knew about the incident, he would be very angry. His older self had a serious issue with controlling his temper about certain matters. Especially whenever the matter concerned Harry, the boy. He wasn't sure why. And his older self had only promised to explain why once they merged.

A bit of a suspicious thought filled his mind. There was this one nagging notion about the weird, uncharacteristically emotional acts of his older self: couldn't it be possible that Marvolo, the Lord Voldemort, actually _loved_ one little orphaned boy called Harry?

Ridiculous. It couldn't be. He huffed, cursing again the excess fat that was currently hindering his movement. He really would torture this body when he was finally freed from it.

* * *

><p>Hogwarts was eerily empty. Most of the teachers had gone back to their respective families and homes for the holidays, leaving the castle silent and dark.<p>

Harry walked along the corridor by himself. It was very silent—making him feel as though he were the last person on Earth. The silence was more welcome than the usual attention he got from his peers. Harry wished the castle he could stay like this, silent and empty, forever. He didn't want to be around other wizards anymore. All they ever did was eventually leave him and hurt him. Marvolo, Tom, Dumbledore, and now even Professor Snape. Professor Snape had showed so clearly how people eventually got bored of Harry. The Professor hadn't said a single word to him ever since the end of final exams, and now he wasn't sure what to do.

Watching his friends enter the Express in delightful, cheerful moods, Harry couldn't help but feel empty inside. His friends had families and homes to go back to. He had no such thing. This emptiness was akin to those initial feelings of watching the owl post pass him by during the first few lonely mornings of the school year, all over again. Furthermore, he was forbidden to board the train by Professor Flitwick, who was on duty. Professor Flitwick had said that Harry was supposed to stay at Hogwarts, and had even asked Professor Snape how he should proceed.

Harry uneasily bit his lip, because he knew that the Potions Master wouldn't want to see him. Harry didn't want to anger the Potions Master any more than how he already had. Especially now that his relatives had rejected him and made clear that he wasn't welcome him in their house anymore. Professor Snape had told him during their last holiday that he would now be his guardian, and that he would protect Harry. But now, it seemed this was just another empty promise. Adults always gave children empty promises. He had been deceived again, as usual.

If Professor Snape refused to take him in, then where should he go…? Would he become a ward of Hogwarts ward, and clean the place with Mr. Filch? Or maybe he would be expelled from Hogwarts, and he would need to find one of the shelters the Goblin had told him about last summer. Maybe he should start a business or something to sustain himself. He could open a cleaning or housekeeping service; he knew he excelled at this, thanks to his life-long 'education' at the Dursleys'. Or the worst-case scenario yet—and the most possible, since his luck was always bad—Harry might end up being sent to an orphanage.

This last option was the most plausible outcome that might happen. Harry bit his lip. Was there any orphanage for magical children? Or would he go to a Muggle one? If that were the case, could he still return to Hogwarts next year? He was sure that his marks were good enough to pass onto the next level. He didn't know that he actually held the second highest marks in his year, only behind one Hermione Granger.

He was heading straight to the strange Room of Requirement at floor 7, and when he found it, he searched for the Mirror. Maybe he could soothe himself by looking at the images of his parents. It didn't matter that they never talked or responded to him. Just seeing them was enough.

The Mirror was still standing in the same place. Harry smiled and watched his own reflection standing across him from the other side of the mirror, smiling back at him. Behind his image were two adults, his father and his mother. After taking a deep breath, Harry let go of everything, all his pent-up emotions, and spoke.

"Father, mother… I might be expelled tonight and I will be leaving soon from Hogwarts. I am not sure where I will go, but I just want… I want to say thank you. It is always nice to see you. At least now I finally know how you both used to look like."

The images both nodded at him, and suddenly, they disappeared. Harry sighed. Maybe the Mirror knew of his wish. He had given up on meeting his parents through the Mirror. And that was why the Mirror turned greyish and nothing was reflected anymore. Because now Harry James Potter had nothing else to wish for. He had given up. He couldn't even find the solution of death he'd always wanted. Pathetic.

So then he walked out and began waiting inside the library, silently reading as much as he could before everything came to an end. So many books teetering around him, making Harry realize how precious time for studying was. He was immersing himself in the world of knowledge when suddenly Dobby came to him and asked him to get dinner in the Great Hall. Harry complied and went. Now he was sitting amongst the handful of teachers left in the castle, including Serverus Snape and Pomona Sprout. Throughout the dinner, Harry kept sending wayward glances towards the Potions Master. It seemed that Professor Snape wasn't paying attention to him at all, and he ignored all of Harry's signals. So Harry braced himself before following the professor out of the Great Hall, and asked as him his question as politely as possible.

"Professor, when am I going to the orphanage?"

The professor was stunned and he stopped walking towards the dungeon. He turned back instead, to face the boy. "Orphanage…?"

"Because you have revoked your guardianship of me, and so I am now without home or guardian, so I can only assume that I am going to the orphanage. Is there any magical orphanage, or am I going to a Muggle one?"

The words pierced Serverus Snape's chest. He suddenly felt so guilty. The child was asking him when he would go to an orphanage! Harry believed that Snape didn't want him anymore, and so, the boy would be sent to orphanage. That was why the boy had been so silent throughout dinner. That was why the boy had looked like he was waiting for something.

Harry was waiting for his verdict. He was waiting to be sent to the orphanage. He was waiting to be abandoned again.

Serverus clenched his fist. He was making the same mistake again. He had promised to protect the boy, but now he'd been ignoring the boy until the boy himself asked him when he would be abandoned. And those eyes, _Lily's_ eyes, were watching him in trepidation, waiting for his verdict, ready to accept whatever Severus would say next.

"Harry, I… I am sorry. You definitely won't go to any orphanage, child. Your place is inside this castle, with me, or inside my house. I am still your guardian."

Harry stared sceptically at the Professor. What did he mean by that?

"You don't need to force yourself to do anything, professor. I can see that you are already fed up with me. I understand and you don't need to lie, Professor. I am just wondering when would I be sent away, and how should I pay you for everything you have done for me? I am very thankful for everything, sir. Is money acceptable?"

Snape took a deep breath and kneeled down until he was at Harry's eye level. He caught the look in the child's eyes and saw the despair and submission in those eyes. The boy was showing no emotion in his face, but his eyes were too honest to lie. And his posture was that of a defeated man. The boy had concluded that Snape loathed him. The boy had lost his faith in Snape. Harry had even wanted to _pay_ him to show his gratefulness. What had he done?

"Harry… I am really sorry. I wasn't ignoring you; I was too busy being wrapped up in my own research and investigations. I was trying to protect you from Lockhart, because I have a suspicion of who he really is, that I must confirm. I am sorry that I gave you the impression that I was ignoring you. I didn't mean to do anything of the sort."

"…So you didn't ask me to come back to your quarters… _not_ because you started to loathe me?" Harry whispered softly.

Snape nodded. "I was too immersed in my thoughts to recognize your needs. I am truly sorry; would you forgive me? Please come back to my quarters now, and you can stay in your room for the remainder of the holiday."

"Are you sure, professor? I don't mind if you send me away. I understand if you do—even my blood relatives find me worthless and ungrateful. Maybe I… I can pay for the room I have in your quarters? I don't want to be a burden to you, sir."

"I am sure, Harry. This is my entire fault; please forgive me. How about I come with you to get your things from the Slytherin dorm? Come, child."

Harry nodded. His head was filled with scepticism. Maybe the Professor was just embarrassed to be reminded of his lie and that was why he apologized and suddenly became cordial again. Harry didn't understand the way adults thought. They continually betrayed their own promises and then when they were confronted about it, they always came out with another handy lie and tried to bury their mistakes. Was this true for _all_ adults? Why couldn't they just forget their pride and be like his uncle, who wouldn't refrain from saying the hurtful truth to him? At least Uncle Vernon never lied to him. Knowing that he would never get a definite answer to his question, the boy gave up. Instead, Harry followed the Professor in silence, and together they went back to the Slytherin dorms.

* * *

><p>Serverus Snape was at a loss. He wasn't sure what to do anymore. It was his fault, to ignore and neglect the child throughout the entire semester. Truthfully, after the duel with Lockhart, Snape began to develop a suspicion that maybe the DADA teacher wasn't at all what he looked like on the outside. When Snape had witnessed Lockhart unbelievably speaking to the snake in Parseltongue, Snape was forced to relive the scariest memory he had ever acquired, when he was still an active Death Eater—every single meeting with the Dark Lord had been was filled with those hissing voices traded between the Dark Lord and his serpent familiar.<p>

He knew that the ability to speak to serpents was very rare, and the only one currently recorded to be able to use such language was the Dark Lord himself. To hear Lockhart hiss it easily towards the snake made his skin crawl and his mind open up to a possible epiphany. Maybe the Dark Lord was possessing Lockhart. He would expect no better from Lockhart, as the wizard was a useless idiot, but then again, it was out of character for the Dark Lord to lower himself and possess such a lowly, degrading individual.

Yet, when he linked everything back to the weird attention the man had lavished upon Harry since the start of the semester, it had all seemed to add up. The real Lockhart would have only paid attention to Harry due to Harry's fame as the Boy-Who-Lived. But if Lockhart was being possessed by the Dark Lord, then the act of sitting together (which Snape had caught him doing, red handed, last time), where the DADA Professor had showed such a vulgar, possessive attitude towards the boy, made more sense. The only plausible explanation was that the Dark Lord wanted to get closer to Harry, to deduce the boy's weaknesses.

And so he tried his best to protect the boy. He delved into his research heavily and produced a certain kind of talisman. This talisman was supposed to protect the bearer very subtlety—instead of giving outright magical protection, it emitted a compulsion charm that would hinder the attacker by introducing distractions, and other subtle tactics. This talisman served well for both him and Harry—he couldn't risk his cover being blown away if Lockhart was really the Dark Lord, but he needed to protect his charge. It seemed the talisman was working perfectly, as he didn't hear about any more private detentions between Harry and Lockhart.

Yet that wasn't all. Snape had actually gone to Dumbledore with his suspicions. The Headmaster had listened to his Potions Professor this time, perhaps because he didn't want to further damage his relationship with the Potions Master. That, and the fact that the Potions Master was always serious about Harry's well being.

Thus, he was busy doing everything possible to protect Harry, from behind the scenes. And in the process, he had managed to neglect the boy's well being. He forgot to engage the boy in their usual conversations. And Merlin knew the boy needed the interaction so much. He had failed the boy now, and as a result, Harry had lost his faith in him.

Now they were inside Diagon Alley, sitting at one of the tables inside Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour. Snape was trying to cheer the boy up by spending his day off with his charge, but so far his efforts were proving to be unsuccessful. The boy was stubbornly non-responsive, and it took 15 minutes for Snape to persuade the boy to choose his own ice cream flavour. The boy looked devoid of emotion and interest, and was watching Snape closely, as though trying to obtain as many silent cues as possible on how to behave.

In the end Snape offered to choose the flavour for him. Harry agreed and he took out some Sickles from his pocket, giving them to the professor. Snape cursed himself and clarified that he didn't want Harry to pay. To that, Harry only nodded and took his place at one of the tables after Snape ordered him to do so.

The boy hadn't talked much ever since the dinner from four days ago. He seemed continuously lost in his own thoughts. They didn't talk at all while eating the ice cream, as Snape didn't know how to start a conversation and Harry didn't seem like he wanted to talk at all. Ever since the dinner from four days ago, the boy had quietly, mechanically come and gone to and from his quarters. When Snape would ask what he'd done the whole day, Harry would answer that he was studying in the library. Snape had a nagging suspicion that the boy was trying to avoid him as much as possible; perhaps he was worried about irritating Snape with his very presence.

Thus, on his free day, Snape had taken Harry out for the day. But so far, Harry was still closed off to him. His ice cream was left mostly untouched. The boy watched shoppers coming and going from the alley instead.

"Harry?"

They both turned to see a red headed young man stand in front of the ice cream table with a long haired brunette girl beside him. Snape needed several moments to realize that the speaker was the oldest Weasley boy, who was currently still studying at Hogwarts. Harry suddenly greeted him back in pleasure.

"Percy! Why are you here?"

"I am here with Penelope. We are on, uhm… a date." Percy Weasley turned beet red when he realized that the person sitting in front of Harry was the Potions Professor. Snape sneered and ignored the red head. Instead he watched as Harry smiled and his face lighted up.

A strange feeling struck him in his chest. He missed that those smile.

"Hey Harry," Penelope smiled. "It is a coincidence, yes? Are you having a day out with your guardian… oh, hallo, Professor Snape." The girl blushed as well, just now realizing that the boy she adored so much (and was familiar with only because of her proximity to Percy) was accompanied by the strict Head of Slytherin.

"Mr Weasley, Ms. Clearwater. It is nice to see you here," Snape answered in his usual snide tone. Both students looked embarrassed, but Harry was already standing.

"Sir, can I talk to Percy for a moment?"

Snape nodded, but he couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy. The child looked happier upon running into Weasley, than when he was with Snape all that time.

Harry ran towards Percy and Penelope, and soon the three of them were chatting it up. Percy and Penelope let Harry choose their ice cream flavours, while Harry happily obliged and gave them three scoops of vanilla, chocolate chip, and Belgian chocolate. Snape watched in silence, then compared the choices to the ice cream he had chosen for both him and Harry, which were on the table: Liquorice for him and Strawberry delight for Harry. He was forced to admit to himself that he had chosen the wrong flavour. And somehow it made him want to berate himself for being unable to choose the right ice cream flavour for Harry.

This was getting ridiculous.

"Professor." Suddenly a voice called out to him. Snape looked up to see Percy Weasley standing beside him, looking very uptight. "Can Harry come to visit me sometime in this holiday?"

"…Yes, if your parents give their consent."

Weasley smiled to him. "Thank you sir! Let me tell Harry!" and with that, he ran back towards Harry and Penelope. Harry looked positively radiant when he heard what Percy said, and they all laughed together.

Why did the whole thing make Snape feel so forlorn?

* * *

><p>Two days afterwards, Harry arrived inside the Burrow through the Floo network.<p>

Harry landed flat on his face, and his nose hurt quite a bit. He didn't like the method of transport at all. A pair of hands suddenly pulled him up, and when Harry looked up to say thank you, he saw two identical faces in front of him.

Each looked like a mirror image of the other. And both of them looked like they were assessing Harry closely. Harry felt awkward and subconsciously took a step behind him. The twins suddenly grinned. One of them spoke out loud.

"Twirl around."

So Harry, being Harry, obeyed the direct order and twirled around. The soot from the Floo scattered around him, making some kind of mild sandstorm. The twin on the right then smirked.

"Jump up."

Harry jumped. Some remainder of the soot fell from his boots. Then the twin on the left smirked.

"Your hand."

Harry put his hand on top of the left twin's hand. And it was quite a contrast between his small hand and the twin's wide palm.

The room was silent for a few seconds. And suddenly Harry was hugged by both of the twins.

"Forge, this is so bad! He is too innocent and obedient! We need to protect him!"

"Yes, Gred, this puppy is too adorable! Look at his beautiful eyes! Percy would eat him alive!"

"GUYS!" Percy shouted from their back. "Stop it! Harry is not a dog!"

The twins replied by making some faces towards Percy, but they still wrapped their hands around Harry as they did so. The boy was suffocating in the middle of the twin sandwich, and he was so embarrassed from having being pranked (or played with) by the twins. Harry was blushing so deeply and looked so red that everybody stopped screaming to each other.

Percy looked mortified. After succeeding in rescuing Harry and pulling the younger boy into his own room, Percy apologized.

"I am sorry for their attitude. They are uncontrollable, and it is very impolite for them to play you like that. I hope you can forgive them, Harry. They should learn from you. I wish you were my little brother, instead of them…"

"PERCY! OPEN THE BLOODY DOOR!" Suddenly the door started banging around. Harry jumped in surprise. "The twins told me that Harry Potter is here! Is that true?"

"Stop it, Ron! You'll break the door! And NO SWEARING in the house!" Percy yelled back and opened the door, revealing the gangly teenage known as Ron Weasley. Harry's eyes went wide and he braced himself for any insult. When Ron saw the black haired boy, he turned a bit pink and he stuttered.

"Why…Why is the Slimy Slytherin here?"

Percy growled in annoyance. "Ron, watch your mouth. Harry is my guest and I won't let you insult him while he is in our house."

"But…But… It's not fair! Why did you get to invite him as your friend and I didn't…! Ah, I mean…" The youngest Weasley boy went beet red, "Why do you even want to invite him, of all people!"

Harry hid behind Percy and watched as the two brothers argued with each other. The arguments escalated when the twins came along and started to insult both Percy and Ron. They also tried to kidnap Harry from Percy. Ron suddenly defended Harry from Fred, while Percy shielded Harry from being taken by George. It ended up being a sort of tug of war between the twins and team Percy-Ron. Harry was in the middle, arms stretched as he was pulled by two sides. His arms hurt, he couldn't take the pulling anymore, so, using his magic, he fended off both sides with a snap, and all of them ended up tumbling on the floor.

And he didn't know why, but it felt so funny that Harry started laughing. The twins followed and soon all five of them were laughing their hearts out. It was then that Harry realized something. The boy felt for the first time how it was like to be in a family. A happy family.

* * *

><p>Review?<p> 


	15. Chapter 15

I am afraid that my story will be taken down since I have some sexual content inside this story. Thus, please invite me if you are in AO3. Thanks!

This is betaed by my dear beta sama Blind_Alchemist.

Enjoy!

* * *

><p>Ron Weasley pouted. The whole day had been a disaster. He admitted that he'd been surprised when the twins had made a racket about how Harry Potter was inside their house. On his own, he'd investigated and found that his freaking 'proper' older brother Percy had actually established some kind of formal relationship with Harry Potter, one that was close enough to actually invite the slimy Slytherin into their house.<p>

Did Percy not _know_ how evil Slytherins were? And to be honest, he was quite angry about how receptive the twins were to the Boy Who Lived. Of course, Harry Potter was akin to a celebrity; capable of even making Ginny blush uncontrollably and stalk the Slytherin from 5 feet afar; but Ron had previously always believed that behind the joker mask of each twin, they each were aware of the inherent evilness of Slytherins. And his brothers should never make friends with anyone who was evil!

Moreover, throughout the whole day, Harry Potter stole the (his) spotlight again and again. Usually the twins would play and mess around with Ron. Ginny would look up to him, and Percy would stay silent the whole time in his room studying. But _no_, because Harry Potter was there today, Percy came out from his room and actually stayed outside his room the whole day, which had rarely happened before; the twins smiled and followed Harry around the whole day; and his little sister was mute for the day, but her eyes never once strayed too far from wherever Harry was. So in essence, Harry stole _his_ place in the family.

Just like at Hogwarts. Harry Potter should be in Gryffindor, the House of the brave. Harry Potter should be a wizard of the Light, and he should be Ron's friend. Moreover, the boy was pathetic, but he was very strong. Ron couldn't defeat him in any way, in any class—the git actually had the gall to always succeed in casting any new Charms in his first try! And the worst thing was, even though he was a Slytherin, Harry Potter still had people's constant attention on him. Why couldn't everyone realize that since Harry was in Slytherin—he _had_ to be evil?

So Ron retaliated and showed his brothers and sister how Slytherin-esque Harry Potter was—the boy was silent, proud and arrogant like Malfoy, cunning like Nott, and looked down on everyone else who was not a Slytherin, like how Zabini always did. He told his brothers and sister how Harry looked down on them because of their family's lack of money (he couldn't say the word "poverty," he wouldn't admit it, even to himself, and he wasn't sure that was the right word either. Vocabulary was not his strength, unlike the know-it-all Granger). He showed his siblings how Harry Potter was too arrogant to play with them—heck, the boy didn't even want to play chess with him, and had lied by saying that he didn't know how to play chess. Who the hell didn't know how to play chess?

And he was even angrier whenever Percy scolded him for being impolite and improper. He hated it when the twins actually stared at him with coldness in their eyes, reminding him that Ron needed to control his temper. Even Ginny looked at him with pitiful eyes before resuming her staring at the Slytherin. Couldn't they see what was happening? Harry Potter, the slimy Slytherin, was _controlling_ them! He was manipulating Ron's siblings!

The boy was silent too, as if whatever Ron said didn't matter. No matter how Ron tried to make him angry, Harry Potter pretended not to listen, instead ignoring his entire existence. And Ron was left in the corner, watching in contempt how well the boy got along with his siblings. Heck, the boy blushed and laughed in front of the twins as if he was innocent… and yes, he could act so well. Harry Potter looked adorable the whole time. Especially when Percy adoringly (adoringly! Percy never even did that to him!) rubbed Harry Potter's messy hair and taught Harry how to play chess.

He was in a foul mood, which lasted until it was dinner time and his mother actually invited the Slytherin git to have dinner in their home. Now, Ron loved his food and he knew that his family wasn't well-off enough to buy a lot of food. They had more than 5 people to feed in the house. Ron had been holding back his food intake compared to what he'd had in Hogwarts. He was considerate to his family in that way. But now, with Harry Potter also eating from his family's dinner table, his food quota would decrease even more! Wasn't Potter supposed to be one of the richest purebloods? Shouldn't he be the one buying them dinner, and not the other way around?

His good mood didn't return even when the Slytherin git left through the Floo network back to Hogwarts. He even saw his mother dabbing her eyes, wiping the tears on her face. His father squeezed her shoulder and smiled sadly as well, commenting,

"He is such a good boy. I pity him for having such a harsh life."

What harsh life? Harry Potter was famous and rich! He was pampered and all that! Alright, he was actually shocked when his friends had told him the dirty gossip about the boy's home life, but surely, it was all an exaggeration? Wasn't that what usually happened when the newspapers were reporting such things anyway?

He went to bed in a very foul mood, and he couldn't sleep. He was too angry to do anything else. And that's why he returned to the living room. Maybe his mother had left a glass of warm milk in the kitchen or something. He was feeling rather hungry. Damn all the frustration he felt—it'd used up his energy!

Inside the kitchen, he saw his father sitting on a stool while doing some paperwork on the dinner table. His father looked up and smiled at him, knowing that his smallest son would be hungry again. The boy's appetite knew no bounds. But when he saw the flushed face and an imminent scowl on his son's face, he realized he needed to be a father and talk to his son.

"Ron, what happened? Why you look so angry?"

With that one question, the dam barring all of Ron's emotions suddenly dam burst. He told his father everything—how Harry Potter had milked his fame at school and had manipulated the whole bunch of Weasley children except him, how Harry Potter was so arrogant and refused to play chess with him, how the boy had lied and said he couldn't play chess, how he stayed and shamelessly ate from their table, how the boy had ignored Ron the whole day and how the boy had irritated him by looking so… so damn innocent all the time! He was a really good actor and a liar, for he'd acted so adorably that even Percy was fooled!

His father listened throughout the rant. By the end of the blubbering, his father sighed and asked him to calm down.

"Ron, why do you think Harry Potter is evil?"

"Because he is a slimy Slytherin, that's why!"

"So because he is a Slytherin, everything he does is manipulative and everything he says is a lie?"

"Yes!" Ron exclaimed with full confidence.

"So," his father smiled. "In your head, it's like this— by being a Gryffindor, you are automatically a brave boy."

"Yes, I guess?" Ron smirked in confidence. "I was the one who'd actually brought the dragons Hagrid had to the tower…" and he stopped talking at once, as the act of remembering Hagrid suddenly made him confused and sad. Ron hadn't known what to believe when Hagrid had been caught and accused as the perpetrator of the whole Chamber of Secrets scandal; but his father cut his train of thought with a question.

"Can you touch a spider?"

Ron's face automatically paled. He silently looked down. No, he couldn't. He was quite afraid of spiders. He was very afraid of them, actually.

"And if I say I am afraid of dogs, would you think I am not suitable to be in Gryffindor anymore?" His father tilted his head, looking earnest.

Ron shook his head. No. His father was a Gryffindor, even though he was afraid of dogs. Just like Ron was a Gryffindor even though he was still afraid of spiders.

"No, dad. You are still a Gryffindor."

"Then don't you think Harry Potter, despite being a Slytherin, may be a good boy as well?" his father gently asked. " Has it ever occurred to you that he didn't play chess with you because maybe he truly didn't know how to play chess? I am proud that you are good at chess, Ron. And I am sure you understand that chess is not a simple game. It has many rules. Don't you think that playing chess against somebody who didn't know the rules of chess is consider cheating? And Harry might not have been lying when he admitted he didn't know—he bravely admitted it, in fact. Don't you think that maybe Harry wanted to play with you, but since you were so angry at him, he couldn't formulate his thoughts and speak properly to you?"

Ron pouted, but he knew that his father was saying all the right things.

"Maybe instead of being angry at him, you should have taught him how to play? By doing that, you two can play it next time, together. And about the dinner—Ron, I know we are not the richest family around, but we can always afford to feed another mouth for a night only—and you saw how little he ate. Harry might have realized that you were angry at him because he was eating from our table—and he felt awkward and didn't eat much. Now if that were the case, don't you think you were being rude? How would you feel if your friend asked you to eat dinner with them, but watched every single spoonful you ate? Would you feel comfortable?"

Ron shook his head. He started to see how childish he had been. But it wasn't all his fault… was it?

His father sighed. "Ronald, you know I love you. You know this family loves you so much. We wouldn't trade you for any other children in the world. You know your siblings love you as well. You are blessed, child. Try to learn to see things from a different angle. Harry Potter lost his parents when he was a baby. And recently, as you know, he was brought up in quite an abusive environment. Now, if you put yourself in his place. If your mother and I died when you were a baby. If then you were placed in an orphanage. If you didn't have any of your siblings. What would you feel?"

Ron bit his lip. His chest was pained. Sometimes, as much as he hated his siblings for being mean to him, he couldn't imagine a life without his family.

"You are blessed with a huge family. And I know we all love each other. We may not have much money, but we have love in abundance. Can't we share a bit of our fortune with others like Harry, who have never known what having a real family feels like?"

Ron's eyes felt as though they were growing a bit watery. Somehow, even though his father was calmly and patiently explaining things to him, he felt as if though his father was berating him for being childish. He admitted that he had been very impolite and childish towards Harry Potter, but the boy was a Slytherin! He'd stolen Ron's place not only at Hogwarts, but also his rightful place in the family!

"Come here." His father opened his arms and Ron fell into an embrace. It had been so long since he was embraced by either parent. It made Ron feel blue. The boy started to sob. His father patted his back, slowly. "It's alright to admit that you are wrong, son. To admit that you are wrong is considered a brave thing to do as well. You are a brave Gryffindor boy and I am proud of you. But control your jealousy, because jealousy will only show you its ugly head, and bring you destruction. You weren't as happy as usual this whole day, were you?"

The boy nodded. His father smiled.

"See? You were so jealous that you couldn't enjoy your day. You can't even sleep now. At the end of the day, jealousy brings nothing but misery. Now, now. Let's get you a cup of warm milk and then you can go back to sleep."

Ron nodded but he refused to let go of his father. His chest was pained—and he started to remember how 'Harry Potter' had neither father nor mother to talk to—how did the boy cope? It surely had to be a very lonely existence and Ron didn't know whether he envied the other boy now or not. He would never trade his family for fame, that's for sure.

* * *

><p>When the Hogwarts job was finished, Marvolo conducted the rituals again and gained back the majority of his soul. The pieces of his soul fit perfectly together, and in the process, he got his body back. Actually it wasn't so much a full body as a golem that was charmed to suit his soul. He then had, with the most gleeful feeling, tortured the body of the fat whale-kid in front of his still-imprisoned mother, and had burned the body of Gilderoy Lockhart. Annana complained about this, for she didn't like a the taste of roasted human, but Marvolo reminded her that she was still full from eating the remains of the whale-like boy anyway. And in order to cover up the murder of Lockhart, Marvolo had announced on Lockhart's behalf that he was going to travel around the world again, and the public shouldn't expect to see him in another 5 years. Hopefully by then the public will have forgotten all about the idiot peacock.<p>

A bit of complication had ensued when they merged, since Tom's young idealistic views and Marvolo's more cynical views of the truth had clashed. It ended up into a whole day of self-dialogue occurring in his head, trying to reason out which postulates were right and which were not. It was not a fun matter, especially when the facts were revealed behind the older Marvolo's obsession with Harry Potter.

The younger self had shouted and screamed about how foolish the older self had been acting. Making too many Hocruxes was one thing, but actually caring for another person was a whole new problem. Hocruxes could maintain their immortality, but caring for Harry Potter, the boy who was prophesied to kill them, was simply idiotic. For one, the basic rules of magic stated that you should never care about others, because they could be used against you and serve as your weakest point. And to love your enemy sounded like willingly offering your body to your enemy to torture. The definition of submission. The definition of _s__tupidity_.

It was unacceptable.

The older self reasoned that he didn't care for Harry _that_ much. He had merely been aiming to use the boy's immense raw power. Furthermore, as Harry was Dumbledore's main weapon, using Harry meant they could bite the old man in the arse with his own weapon. The younger self screamed '_fool_!' and '_how naïve are you __about__ your own feelings?_' but he was silenced by the elder's stubbornness and the memories of interacting with Harry Potter in his first year. After learning what had truly happened to the boy, the younger self reluctantly admitted that Harry should have been taught properly, so that he could have properly dealt with his main torturers (a.k.a. the Dursleys—only Petunia was currently still alive) and his main, manipulative proprietor (a.k.a. Dumbledore).

Marvolo in the end had managed to regain control over his younger self and slowly they had truly merged. Now they called himself "Marvolo." And he additionally got back his previously handsome face. Not to mention his fit physique and charming smile. Add those up with his manipulative ways of thinking and soothing voice, and everyone—from the Hogwarts bathroom cleaner, to his new secretary—was charmed and dazzled by him, and heeded every single word he said.

Charming his way through the masses was an easy job for him. People routinely fell heads over heels for him. Then he started his job under the new name of 'Marvolo Thomas Riddle-Gaunt". His job as the Deputy Head of the Auror Department proved to be the most strategic place to carry out his plans. He remembered to thank Lucius for this. And to be honest, he was quite amused at how shocked Lucius appeared when 'Lord Voldemort' had actually thanked him and promised him a handsome reward in the future. Apparently Lucius had felt it was so out of character for his Lord to do so, he had a panic attack and had only settled down when Marvolo offered him a reassuring pat at the back.

However, it was tricky when he sought to prevent Dumbledore's awareness of his new position. Marvolo managed to work for two weeks unnoticed before the old Headmaster came to the Ministry (for a trivial Hogwarts matter) and learnt that 'Marvolo Thomas Riddle Gaunt' (a.k.a TM Riddle, or Lord Voldemort) was actually working in the Auror Department. Dumbledore looked shell-shocked at the news and immediately accused him of being the Dark Lord. Marvolo was prepared for this accusation and he deflected it, simultaneously questioning the Headmaster's credibility. Marvolo then pointed out how, although Dumbledore was the defeater of Grindelwald, his prime presence was already outdated, and the Headmaster had been showing the symptoms of senility, old age and poor judgement. Due to the recent reveal of Harry Potter's severe neglect, Dumbledore's political power had lessened considerably. Furthermore, Lucius came and conducted damage control through his puppet, Cornelius Fudge. Since he was backed up by the Minister himself (and was always convincingly charming since the day he started working), most of the Ministry employees believed in Marvolo, and started to question the Headmaster's sanity as well. In the end, Dumbledore retreated in defeat, but not without threatening to expose Marvolo's 'real face'.

Lucius was quick to strike the iron while it was hot, as he presented the cases to the Wizengamot and the Supreme Court on the very same day. Since most of the voters were Voldemort's followers, the case was quickly brought forward and Dumbledore's place as the head of both courts was taken down and given to Lord Malfoy and Lord Parkinson, respectively. Dumbledore realized he was too late when he received the letter of reassignment (a.k.a. demotion) three days afterwards. When he tried to challenge the court's decision, he was resisted by many court members who mostly had personal grudges against the manipulative old goat. Lucius was glad to see that the manipulative techniques that Dumbledore had been wielding throughout the years had come back and bitten the old man in the arse. In the end, Dumbledore lost all his influential positions in the Wizarding world, save one: he only managed to maintain his position as Hogwarts' Headmaster.

Back to Marvolo's job. It was actually quite amusing to see how power could control everything. He was a new guy, but since he was in a high position, he could order Aurors around as much as he liked. And those Aurors, (fools, all of them), followed the orders like they came from Merlin himself. Of course Marvolo was cautious to not follow his heart's deepest desires, but it was ironically funny that now he had complete control over the Aurors, who were supposed to catch the 'bad guys' (like him).

Some, of course, were a bit resistant to his charms. For the most part this was easily controlled. Marvolo either wooed them with his personal charms and promises of enticing rewards, or removed them silently, as some of them were actually Dumbledore's hard-core fans. But his only real obstacle was the Head of the Department herself, one Amelia Bones. The lady was a strict and no-nonsense leader, not so much loved—but mostly feared—by all his subordinates. Marvolo could see how she (ironically) had become the Head of the Magical Enforcement Department (the most "masculine" Department that currently existed in the Ministry) although she herself was a lady. She was, in a way, more masculine than any of the other Aurors in the department. However, based on her instincts, she had actually suspected Marvolo all along and had always kept a close eye on him. She was also contacted frequently by Dumbledore, but fortunately, Marvolo knew about the contacts before Dumbledore had any say about revealing Marvolo's real identity.

Due to that problem, it was a pity that Marvolo needed to get her out of the picture. Now that he was the Deputy Head, once Bones was gone, he would be the Head of the Department. And so, three weeks into summer, Marvolo ordered a high reward for her silent murder, preferably within her own house. Nott and Avery were glad that their master had returned and, moreover, had ordered a murder. They loved the thrill of killing as much as they loved their liquor. And they carried the murder out very skilfully, ending the lady's life as quickly and as spotlessly as possible. They made it appear as if she had died from natural causes—of, specifically, a heart attack.

The death of Amelia Bones shocked the Ministry to the core. They issued an order to investigate the case and the Minister appointed Marvolo as the new Head of the Auror Department at once. Marvolo happily followed the decree and he pretended to 'investigate' and make sure that the Britain Wizarding World was still 'safe'. He arranged for a few foolish new Aurors to investigate the matter while making the more competent ones like Kingsley Shacklebolt do the paperwork. He conducted this so smoothly that nobody even realized he was orchestrating everything. As expected, the inexperienced investigation team of Aurors concluded that Amelia Bones' death was caused by a heart attack, and not by murder.

And that was how Marvolo became the Head of Magical Enforcement.

* * *

><p>Marvolo's promotion was officiated the day before the burial of Amelia Bones was held. Marvolo had been strolling along Diagon Alley, performing his patrolling duties. Suddenly some reporters came out of nowhere and bombarded him with questions, asking for comments and taking his picture. Marvolo knew that, despite his distaste for the press, publicity was important for securing his good graces in public eye. So he answered the questions diplomatically, stating his grief over the wonderful Head's death and pleading to the public to support him in his new role as the Head of the Department. He managed to charm the public and soon he was surrounded by many onlookers, who became his fans (either from his handsome looks or via the charming way he was acting).<p>

While surrounded by reporters, Marvolo had been smiling for half an hour and honestly his jaw hurt like hell. He had always wondered how on earth Gilderoy Lockhart had ever found public attention like this so desirable. He honestly wanted to kill every single one of these reporters, but it wouldn't do for his future status, of course. So he endured the public's attention patiently, until he almost snapped. At that exact time he saw the child he would recognize anywhere, standing in the middle of a group of redheads, and a sour-looking Snape.

"Oh, Harry Potter! What an honour to see you here!"

Marvolo went over to the group, running away from the unforgiving crowd. When they saw him, the Weasley clan's faces were full of questions, whereas Snape's face paled considerably. The redheads looked like they were out shopping for school things, and Harry was standing absent-mindedly beside the oldest Weasley boy. Marvolo smirked and nodded at the Potions Master, and the man backed down, letting Marvolo take control. Marvolo was sure Snape was already informed of his real identity by the Headmaster and thus, he didn't care to give any sort of explanation.

He shook hands with Arthur Weasley (that blood traitor) and Snape (whose hands were shaking a bit) before shaking Harry's hand and patting the boy on the head. The boy was looking at him in wonder. Those emerald orbs watched him, swimming in unreadable emotions. Marvolo then felt some touches on his own magick resource. The boy was probing his own magick resource to measure who Marvolo was. The boy always surprised him with his powerful potential.

Oh, how he had missed the boy.

"…Do I know you, sir?" the boy asked calmly, as if they were in some private place, and not in the middle of Diagon Alley with so many people crowded around them. The press kept taking pictures and lightbulbs flashed every other second.

"Maybe, my child. Marvolo Thomas Riddle Gaunt, at your service." Marvolo smiled and bowed down. Harry paled when he heard the name.

"Marvolo?" Harry squeaked. The boy paled and suddenly fell forward, losing his consciousness. Marvolo managed to catch the boy in the nick of time, and he rushed to a nearby Apparition point, thinking of nothing but how to get Harry to St Mungo's. The crowd kind of parted away and Snape followed closely behind him.

* * *

><p>Snape wasn't sure what should he do. Hell, he didn't even know what to believe. Dumbledore had warned him last week (with many, many lemon drops and vodka glasses in between) that the handsome man in front of him was his Dark Lord. Since Snape had joined the Death Eaters when Voldemort already losing all his facial and cranial hair (a.k.a. becoming eyebrow-less and bald), Snape couldn't find any similarities between the snake-like man and the charming peacock in front of him. Truthfully, this man was just like Gilderoy Lockhart, only a lot more charming and poised, and with black hair instead of blond.<p>

And if the man was truly the Dark Lord, then why did he look so worried now? When Harry had fainted, he was the first one to catch the boy and rush the boy to St Mungo's. And ever since then, Snape hadn't gotten any sign of him wanting to kidnap Harry and take him away. The man had instead just silently sat down beside Harry's bedside and had held Harry's hand the entire time. Hell, even Snape could detect the sincerity of the man's actions. Or maybe the man was just an accomplished actor.

Then he got his answer. Once the Healers were out from the room, the man suddenly spoke in the hissing voice he knew so well.

"Severussss…."

"My Lord." Snape kneeled automatically, but the man waved his hand and signalled for him to stand. Snape complied.

"I am back and I have changed. No longer is violence my path; I will slowly take this rotten culture down from the bottom—and fear not, I won't lose my mind anymore. You have done a good job of protecting Harry Potter, and I want you to continue to do so."

"Yes, my Lord." Snape bowed. "Thank you, my Lord."

"Don't even come to me if you fail to protect Harry. I'll find you and skin you alive."

Snape shivered for a bit, but he maintained his silence. The question of 'why' was ringing in his head. And then suddenly, one Auror entered the room.

"Sir! Your presence is required at tonight's meeting. I am here to fetch you."

The Dark Lord in disguise (or maybe not, since he was in his real appearance now) sighed. "Fine. I will come out in five minutes. Let me talk to Severus Snape first."

"Yes, sir!"

The Auror went out from the room and Marvolo stood, shoulder to shoulder with the tall Snape. "Dumbledore is a sinking ship. I appreciate your feelings towards the boy's mother, but your wariness of me is no longer needed. I will not harm Harry Potter and I will never take back my word. So you need to choose between your two masters. I am not going to accept being two-timed by another. Oh, and inform me as soon as Harry is awake."

The man left Snape standing in the room, frozen from fear and distress.

* * *

><p><em>He found himself standing beside Percy, and the red-headed boy patiently taught him how to play chess. Harry's chest was still in a bit of pain because of Ronald Weasley's <em>_previous__ words. The red headed__,__ gangly teenager __had__ accused him __of__ being arrogant and a liar__,__ because Harry __hadn't__ wa__nte__d to play chess and __apparently__ he didn't know how to play chess. That reminded Harry of why he couldn't tolerate the __younger__ red-headed boy._ _The boy __had__ always tried to hurt him ever since __his__ first year __at Hogwarts__. Harry subconsciously __equated__ Ronald Weasley __to a__ Duddley of the __W__izarding world._

_The twins were better than Ron, if not a bit scarier. They both circled around him like two owls around one mouse. They were funny and full of surprises, making Harry jump from surprise every time they did or said something outrageous. The twins had even made Harry laugh for half of a day one time. They played constantly (using him as an object) but sometimes their jokes went a bit too far. Harry knew the twins meant well, but he didn't really appreciate how harshly they treated others. He felt as though they were cooped up in one world, and the boundary of civilization was between them and everybody else. Sometimes they hurt other's feelings without caring or realizing it, because they didn't really care about hurting other's feelings at the expense of their own entertainment._

_Ginny was a sweet little girl. But Harry was a bit afraid of her eyes, since they never left him ever since he had first met her. She always flushed whenever Harry saw her—and when Harry tried to speak to her, she could only chirp in nervousness._

_Dinner was another awkward affair. Harry was invited and he ended up joining their table for dinner. The Weasley parents were very good people; they smiled a lot and kindly engaged Harry in many conversations. Percy was busy scooping food into his plate whereas the twins were busy taking out the food from Harry's plate and transferring it to theirs. It made the whole table except Percy and Ron laugh. But Harry honestly felt Ron's unwaveringly hostile stare directed at him during the whole dinner. It seemed like the boy was angry because Harry was eating in his home. Subconsciously, Harry chose to eat even less than usual that day. Unfortunately this prompted the Weasley matriarch to ask him whether he didn't like the food. And Harry was trapped in a dilemma of not wanting to upset the kind lady, or not wanting to anger Ronald Weasley further. In the end, he ate from his plate until it was clean, but he didn't touch the dessert, instead allowing his dessert to be Ronald's portion._

Harry's eyes fluttered open, head still immersed in the dream-like memory of when he'd last visited The Burrow. It was a good time, except for the bits involving Ronald Weasley. That was why he never went to The Burrow again, even when Percy asked him again. They ended up making promises to do their school shopping together, which was supposed to be today… and where was he?

Everything was white. The walls were a creamy colour, but the ceiling was white. Harry looked around to find familiar-looking chairs, and he was on a familiar, uncomfortable bed, with blankets that smelled of antiseptic. He knew this room. He had stayed in this room for ages last summer. He was at St Mungo's Hospital, once again. Why this was so, he wasn't sure.

"You are awake." The voice he knew so well suddenly came from the door. Harry turned around to see his Potions Professor walking towards the bed, a vial of potion in hand. "How do you feel now?"

"Professor?" Harry asked, watching as the dark haired man take a chair and sit beside Harry's bed. "What happened?"

"You fainted in the middle of Diagon Alley, Apparently you are very much distressed and your head just suddenly shut down from the panic. What happened, Harry? Do you feel better now?"

Harry closed his eyes. He had fainted—this was so embarrassing. But why did he…?

The backlash. The sudden strong magical aura that had surrounded him, suffocating him in an instant. The powerful aura that had probed back to his magical resource. And the image of this owner of the strong aura came into his mind.

_Marvolo Thomas Riddle-Gaunt at your service._

That opened Harry's eyes immediately.

Tom? Marvolo?

In one body?

In real life?

Everybody was fucking with his mind.

"Where is he?" Harry asked suddenly. "Where is Marvolo?"

"You know him?" Snape looked surprised at his charge. He bit his lip and peered deep within his own thoughts. Harry couldn't wait. He straightened up from the bed and grabbed his guardian's arm. It was something that he needed to know. He wanted to know why on earth Tom or Marvolo had appeared now. And why he now had a body.

"Where is he, Professor? Where is Tom?"

"Harry? Do you want me to call him here?"

The teenager stopped babbling and moving. Did he want to meet Tom and Marvolo? Now, of all times? Now, after he had managed to tuck every negative emotion inside his head and carefully into the Harry's Box? Now, when he had become numb and felt nothing but the nice emptiness? Did he really want to see them again? Would he break down again, from the pain of betrayal and loneliness that he'd experienced from the summer a year ago?

Harry knew that they were the same man, but why had they come now? And why had he approached Harry with a smile, as if he were _happy_ to see him? Hadn't Tom and Marvolo left him because he was useless? Wasn't that what had happened over the succession of the past two years, where Marvolo had become his anchor in Harry's first year, and Tom had become his friend in his second year, only to leave Harry by himself at the end of each year? Was it going to happen again? Was that a game for Marvolo because it was fun for him, to play with Harry's feelings?

Hadn't he gone through enough?

Would Harry let himself be played again?

_No_, he had decided. He didn't want to meet Tom or Marvolo or whatever he was calling himself nowadays. He didn't want to get near Marvolo again. He'd had enough of the abandonment. His heart had been broken so many times that he didn't have anything to break anymore. He couldn't let Marvolo in. He wouldn't survive the whole cycle again. He'd had enough. He didn't want to be hurt anymore.

"No… Please sir, no. Please, don't let me see him. Please."

Snape gravely nodded. He called back the Healer, and let Harry be checked before he swiftly Floo'ed with Harry back into Hogwarts.

Snape decided against informing his Dark Master about Harry's wakefulness.

* * *

><p>Marvolo was angry.<p>

Not only had he found that Harry was awake the day before, Snape had taken the teenage boy back to Hogwarts. Marvolo had been caught unguarded because that day, Amelia Bones' funeral had been held, and everybody had expected him to attend the ceremony for the whole day. Just when he had finally returned to his office and checked on Harry did he know Harry was gone. That was a really low blow, because now Marvolo certainly couldn't meet with Harry. Not only was Hogwarts was an impenetrable fortress, Albus Dumbledore would never let him in the entrance, even in times of peace, for sure.

_Snape is going to pay for this._

"Sir." Suddenly an Auror entered his office. "We have an urgent matter at hand! There was a break out from Azkaban! Hagrid the half-giant and Sirius Black are missing, sir!"

Marvolo was stunned for a second, but then his lips formed into a smile. The situation might have been unexpected, but he could use it towards his own goal…

* * *

><p>Thank you for the reviews! Please show me your love more ehe!<p>

And again, I overshoot my boundaries. I never wanted this story more than 20 chapter,but from the look of things, it will be.

Review! Fave! XD Anything! Show me your love~~~


	16. Chapter 16

I am sorry for the late update. Ehe, I found my new ship in The Avenger fandom. Hands up who loves FrostIron like me! (a.k.a. LokiX Iron Man). ehehehe (Tom Hiddleston, y u so cute?).

And there were sooooo many old stories being updated. I havent been able to read any new stuff because the updates from my old alerts kept coming to me. It was a bliss.

This is beta-ed. Thank you Blind_Alchemist sama!

Enjoy!

* * *

><p><em>He wasn't sure what day it was, which date it was, or even which year it was, much less what had happened that very day. Every day was the same, filled with feelings of despair and guilt. Regret. Forlornness. Feelings of betrayal. Anger. And feelings of self-pity. It was all he could do to keep from going insane; he couldn't ever muster a single positive feeling in his entire being, due to the dementors guarding his cell day and night. <em>

_He was vaguely aware that somehow he'd gotten a new cell mate. The new cell mate was located in the other cell beside him but kept hidden, so he wasn't sure about the person's identity. But from time to time he would hear the man growling, begging to be released. He smirked. Oh, new prisoner. Welcome to Azkaban life. No matter what you do, the nightmare won't ever leave you. _

_Then the new prisoner got received a visitor. That actually irked him a bit. How come the new prisoner got a visitor only within mere days of being admitted into the prison, whereas he, Sirius Black, received no such thing? And here he thought of himself as a celebrity in the Wizarding World. Well, before he was there, he was the handsome rogue with enough lovers enough to fill a huge encyclopaedia of romance. _

_The visitor left quickly, and then about two weeks later, returned, this time with another person. The visitor had actually brought the new prisoner a visit with the idiot Minister of Magic. Wow. Who was this new prisoner, who could possibly be so important as to be having the Minister himself as his visitor?_

"No, Albus! I cannot accept this! I don't care how he is suffering inside this prison, I cannot let him go! He was the one who opened the Chamber of Secrets! I can NOT pardon him!"

_Albus…? He knew that name… Albus Dumbledore. Dumbledore. The Headmaster. The leader of the Light. James' role model. The inventor of the Fidelius spell._

_Dumbledore. _

_He should know then, shouldn't he! Albus should know that he wasn't the Potters' Secret-Keeper. No, it was Peter, that filthy rat! Albus was there. Was he going to be free, at last? _

"Look at Black, Albus! Don't you remember what he did? And if I pardon this half giant, then I need to pardon him as well!"

_He was intrigued. So he moved closer to the bars separating the cells. He saw a bunch of people in the other room. Two of them were Albus Dumbledore (what a set of colourful robes! But what was that colour called again…? His mind couldn't recall the name of that particular colour) and Minister Fudge… Yes, Fudge. That stupid, useless politician. _

"Hey." _He __marvelled at__the sound of__ his own raspy voice. Heh, he still h__ad__ his sexy voice. _"Be quiet for a bit, would you? Give me the paper, if you are finished with that, ya?"

_The group fell into silence. Those bunch of cowards. But they actually gave him the newspaper, so he grudgingly took it. He sat back on his cot and opened the paper. It seemed like Albus wasn't there to help him. That son of a bitch. To think that Prongs had loved that man like a father… _

_His mind stopped working the moment he saw the picture on the first page. It was a picture of many people, but the spotlight was on a handsome man cradling an unconscious boy in his arms; both were surrounded by a striking number of prominent redheads, and one slimy git. _

**Riddle-Gaunt, the New Head of Magical Enforcement, meets Harry Potter **

_Gosh, he needed to get out of there. Now._

* * *

><p>Once they reached the professor's quarters in Hogwarts, Harry felt his body<p>

being lifted, albeit a bit awkwardly, by the professor. Professor Snape refused to let him down, even though Harry told him repeatedly that he could walk himself. He was fine, he wasn't hurt or anything. And Harry was sure he was very heavy. He flushed deep red and started to muster another protest. But the professor turned a deaf ear to it and carried him into his room, eventually tucking him inside his bed.

"Get some rest. Do not concern yourself with that man. I will not let him come near you again, Harry."

The Professor looked emotionless as usual when he was saying this,

but Harry could sense a touch of sincerity in his words. Maybe the professor was offering him his protection…

Why?

It was rare for others to offer him any sort of protection like that. The boy knew he was the one asking for the protection, but he honestly hadn't expected to receive much. At most, he'd expected to be shielded, for only about one hour, away from Tom, or Marvolo, or whatever he called himself now. But his professor had actually taken him all the way back to Hogwarts immediately after he'd asked, and now the professor was promising him that he wouldn't see Marvolo at all. Although adults were always breaking their empty promises, somehow he knew the professor was giving him a serious promise. The kind of promise that would be kept no matter what.

Harry didn't know what to feel though. He truly thought that if he met with Marvolo, he would be disappointed again, just as usual. He'd be abandoned again, just as usual. That was why he ran away. Like a coward. Because it was the safest thing to do.

Another part of him actually yearned to meet the man—either because he was a masochist who loved pain, or… perhaps to placate the voice inside his head that always wanted to reaffirm to the boy that he wasn't loved. Because whenever he was absolutely sure he was not loved, he never needed to question whatever misery fate threw at him.

But another, different, small-yet-annoying voice in his head still believed the opposite, even after the repeated disappointments.

And that upset Harry. Why did he always have that annoying feeling? He'd had enough of those disappointments. He longed for the day he'd truly feel nothing so that and nothing would ever hurt him again. Then he would be truly free.

Throughout his mental arguments with himself, Harry fixed his eyes on his professor's face. His chest tightened when the professor tucked him in, and patted his bed covers right on his chest, gently; like how Aunt Petunia had always done for Duddley at the boy's bedtime, before Duddley felt that he was a 'big boy' and didn't need to be tucked in by his mother anymore. Harry used to watch glimpses here and there about how a mother would cuddle her precious child. How a father would indulge his precious son. And he always wondered how that felt like.

Was it the same as the feelings he experienced right now, when the Professor patted his bedcovers gently?

He had no one to ask, of course, and he didn't know how to ask such a thing anyway. He wasn't sure what someone 'normal' would do in that kind of situation. Why was it so easy for 'normal's to express their emotions in words? Was it because Harry was such a freak that his mentality was also weird and wrong? Was it actually wrong of him to run away from Marvolo? Was it wrong of him to want the Professor's hand on his bed sheets, to continue patting it gently?

And why had he started to question every single thing he had on his mind? He was used to following anything Fate threw at him, never questioning why. It was simple. Now things were getting more complicated, since every time Harry asked 'why'; his mind started to see things differently. He saw the huge, inherent differences between himself and others, which cemented his belief that he was the 'freak' amongst 'normal freaks'.

The professor stared back at him, as if he wanted to say something, but he wasn't sure how to ask without making Harry upset. Harry found it funny, because he truly didn't understand why others would care about making him upset. Usually his feelings were the last thing everybody had in mind. He was used to being the last thing anyone cared for.

So he watched the professor. And the professor looked at him in return.

They both waited in silence.

Finally the professor gave up and sighed. He touched Harry's forehead briefly before walking away. He closed the door behind him.

Harry had been a mere breath away from asking the professor to stay behind with him. But his voice was gone, and his throat suddenly felt very dry. He couldn't ask whatever it was he'd wanted to ask. He wasn't sure of it himself. His mind was in chaos. Everything was jumbled up and he wasn't sure what to feel right now. And it made him feel nauseated. It felt like a great lump was forming inside his throat, threatening to come out, but he simply couldn't let it out.

Slowly he slipped out of his bed and went to the desk. He gathered the expired Chocolate Frog and the mug into his arms, and brought the two objects back with him back into bed. He held them tightly onto his chest. Since he had nothing to do now, he indulged himself in his favourite activity, "self-cuddling" time: remembering the happier times in his life, and that his parents had loved him very much.

Yes, that would do. He would postpone contemplating all the complicated matters and the indescribable feelings. He was lucky enough to avoid returning to the Dursleys' that holiday. Tomorrow he would wake up and resume his studies, just as usual. He was far along the Advanced Transfiguration and the Animagus books from his father's vault. He would try to make the Animagus-animal revealing potion tomorrow in the Hidden Room. He would also resume his studies on Necromancy, based on the books provided by the Hidden Room. But he wouldn't think of that now.

Now he just needed to focus on his memories and bask in his parents' love, Blaise's friendship and the affection of the Hogwarts house elves.

* * *

><p>"Congratulations." Blaise smiled as he put the present in Draco's hand. Draco smirked, thanking Blaise and his mother for the gifts; signalling for them to go into the ballroom. The party was already in full swing; the majority of the guests had arrived a half an hour ago. Blaise saw Pansy Parkinson waltzing with her father on the dance floor. Theodore Nott was standing in one of the corners with his parents while the Crabbe and Goyle families were standing near the table with all the finger foods, simultaneously in a deep discussion while attacking the food with gusto.<p>

It was the fourteenth birthday of Draco Malfoy, the heir of the House of Malfoy, and thus it was quite a party, with many important guests gathering to show off their wealth, power and grace. It was one of the more important annual parties for the upper class, and so, most of Slytherin students were also there.

Blaise separated from his mother, who was talking to potential new husband #6. The boy sighed, knowing that although his current father was still alive, he might not be soon anymore. He walked towards the corner where Nott was standing, and the boy smiled when he saw Blaise coming.

They exchanged pleasantries and Nott's parents let them go walk off by themselves. Blaise and Nott then stayed in one of the private lounges along the same corridor, inside the room they usually used to gather in whenever Draco's birthday parties were in full swing. Not long after that, Pansy came into the room with Daphne and Millicent; followed by Draco himself and his two goons. Tracy wasn't at the party at all, because she was a half-blood who'd mostly spent her time in the Muggle world.

"Tired?" Blaise smirked when he saw the platinum blond boy rushing into the room. Draco forgot his manners and spread himself on top of one of the sofas, moaning.

"Those girls don't know when to stop, don't they?" Nott smirked.

"Their mothers are worse." Draco groaned. "They never let me be alone. Especially with you guys hiding here."

"Although they know you are already tied to me," Pansy pouted. She moved to the seat beside Draco and started to preen her fiancé. Draco looked irritated by the gesture, but everybody let it go, per usual.

"I wish Harry was here as well," Blaise sighed to himself, but immediately realized he'd spoke the words aloud. Everybody in the room stopped whatever they were doing and turned to Blaise. Draco was the first one to comment.

"Apologies, Zabini. I know you love him, but Harry refused my invitation, so we cannot have him here."

Blaise blushed a bit, but he answered with poise. "I never said anything about _loving_ Potter, Malfoy. Don't jump to conclusions. That is unbecoming of a Slytherin."

"Please. With all due respect, it is clearly stated on your face," Pansy cooed, smiling. "It's alright, Blaise. I can see why. Harry is truly delicious… and so innocent. If I were not tied to Draco, I would be all over Harry as well."

"Oh, do I detect a future extramarital affair, Parkinson?" Daphne noted, face still cool as ever, but her tone was playful.

Pansy only smugly smiled, while Draco groaned into his hands. Blaise shook his head. They started to talk about something else, and discussing the news about the escaped prisoner of Azkaban was getting more and more interesting until Pansy screeched and begged them to stop. She was quite afraid of both the prison and the prisoners. So they were forced to change the topic, and since everybody was British, they talked about the weather instead.

"Actually, maybe Potter didn't even know about this party." Suddenly Millicent spoke up. Everybody turned to her. The change in topic was a welcome one since there is not much one can say about the current weather. "I mean, when I had my birthday party last year, I invited him as well, but he didn't even reply to my invitation. When I confronted him about it, he looked at me as though he didn't know what I was talking about. Initially I thought it was because of his hospitalization—but then my parents told me that Harry Potter's mails and social invitations are all collected by one of the Ministry owl mail departments and that Dumbledore decides whether Harry needs to go to them or not. So I suspect Harry didn't even get your invitation, Draco."

"That… That is ridiculous!" Blaise exclaimed. "Why would the Headmaster..?"

"He is Harry Potter's magical guardian." Millicent shrugged. "So he decides everything for Potter, until Potter turns into an adult."

Draco sneered. "That meddling old goat. How could even he prevent Harry Potter from coming to my party? Is he trying to limit Harry's social influence?"

The conversation diverged into Dumbledore's meddling manipulations, and then veered into the usual political territory. They might not technically be adults yet, but as the heirs of their respective families, they were required to know what was happening in the Wizarding and Muggle worlds. Since most of them were heirs to prominent family fortunes, they needed to make waves in their own social circles and be influential in their own age groups. By this age, most were savvy and strong enough to actually talk and act like adult wizards. Political sparring was one of the main subjects they had learned from their private tutors before they even entered Hogwarts. Furthermore, their childish feelings of self-importance spurred them whenever they talked about politics, similar to how their parents acted.

Throughout the conversation, Draco noticed how Blaise was unusually distracted and not paying attention. When they left the room to return to the hall (since Draco was the star of the party, it would have been rude of him to keep holing up inside the private longue), Draco approached his dorm mate.

"Look, if you are worried about him, why don't you send a letter or something? I believe he is staying at Hogwarts for the whole summer."

Blaise took his time before replying. "I don't know what you mean, Malfoy."

"Fine, then keep denying it to yourself. Just remember, he is so gullible that he wouldn't recognize affection even if it were dangling naked in front of his eyes. You need to spell it out clearly to him what you feel. If you need my support, please ask."

Blaise grimaced. "Why? Why do you want to help me so much?"

Draco smirked. "Of course, the main reason is because it is very amusing for me."

* * *

><p>Meanwhile, on the other side of the Malfoy Manor, another meeting was being held. One figure was seated beside the fireplace, while the others stood beside one another, making a half circle. Everybody besides the figure was standing, despite the presence of chairs and sofas that were enough to accommodate more people than was inside the room.<p>

"Welcome, my friends. Tonight marks the new phase of our mission to clean out the corrupted Ministry of Magic and the Britain Wizarding World in general."

Everybody in the room knew that the term 'friends' was not being used for its actual meaning. But nobody dared to voice their thoughts, and everybody paid attention to every single word the man was saying.

The handsome, tall and charismatic man seated in front of them was a far cry from the late Lord Voldemort's form. And truthfully, they preferred this image. The late Lord Voldemort was insane beyond reason, to be exact; while this person at least still gave them the chance to explain themselves whenever he was unhappy.

They were called last week, all of them who bore the mark of the Dark Lord. All came with trepidation, knowing that they would at least be _Crucio_-ed once for being 'unfaithful' to the Dark Lord. But they were surprised when the Dark Lord came in the form of Marvolo Thomas Riddle-Gaunt, the new Head of Magic Enforcement. And they were relieved when the Dark Lord actually gave them a chance to explain themselves, before undergoing any Crucio-related torture.

It wasn't a _chance_ per se, actually. It was how the 'new version' of the Dark Lord showed them that now he would rule within reason—and it was, honestly, a better advertisement for his followers to come back and support him. No longer did they support him out of fear, but now, out of respect and trust. Voldemort had seemingly changed, and he showed them that instead of forcing everything to be done his way by brute power and might, he'd taken the political route and reined control over the Wizarding World from the inside (which was probably easier, a more mature decision, and smarter).

But not everybody was pardoned. Those deemed useless, unable to come out with a good reason for abandoning their cause, or particularly those who proved a liability to him, were killed straight away. That was why his followers still held onto their old fear of the 'new' persona of the Dark Lord. Also, everyone noted that aside from those members who were being kept in Azkaban, only Serverus Snape was absent in that meeting.

The room was filled according to his hierarchy, with only the Dark Lord's innermost and second rings of followers present. The Dark Lord smiled to himself, because the number was quite large compared to the number he had been expecting before calling all of them. It seemed that he would now have a better chance of changing the British Wizarding World, based on how many politicians and influential families were staying in that room waiting for his orders. But the purpose of the meeting that night wasn't to conduct politics or to plan any raids. It was about something else, some new elements he wanted to try.

"I will congratulate you for making the right choice. You can see how corrupted our world is now; full of Muggles and their influences. We have lost our traditional values, our pride, and control over our own fate. So we need to take back what was ours, but maybe with a bit of a twist."

"What do you mean by 'twist', my lord?" asked one of the second ring followers. Marvolo smiled.

"If you let me finish my words, you will know, surely. Well, I have been abroad for many years—and you all thought I was killed. But fear not, death is not my enemy. I have already conquered death…" Marvolo smirked and he could see some of his followers visibly flinch. It was always important to reassure his followers of how strong he was. Even he needed to manipulate some of the truth. "And during those times, I was exposed to new knowledge. Including, although I am not happy to say this, Muggle technology."

It was clear that what he said wasn't really accepted at first by his followers. Several of them growled and others turned to whisper among themselves. Marvolo sighed. He was sure that would happen. He wasn't so sure of himself now.

The research had been done after he'd created his third Horcrux, using the Hufflepuff's Cup and in the process murdering Hepzibah Smith. He had actually gone to Europe and learned his techniques from the Grindelwald. However, at the time, since his mental health was being negatively affected by the lack of the majority of his soul (since by that point he had made 3 Horcuxes), he hadn't been able to appreciate the genius of Grindelwald. Young Tom had considered the mixing of magic and Muggle technology pathetic, although some state-of-the-art machine guns could actually overpower the strongest Protego spell.

However, now with a clear mind and his regained intelligence, he fully understood what Grindelwald's strategy was. The Muggle technology mixed with magic yielded the best weapons since these opposing forces complimented each other. It was a pity Grindelwald eventually fell for Dumbledore's trap and was now being kept inside the Nurmengard. Yet, his research was mostly based on the technologies from back in the 1980s, and he was sure Muggles had since come out with more interesting weapons and enhanced energy sources . So somehow he needed to make his followers understand the benefit of mixing their magic with Muggles' technology.

And honestly? He was tired of the stuck-up traditionalist purebloods who wouldn't leave their comfort zones.

"Stop putting your head in your arses. As beautiful as your arses are, they are not the best place to put your brain. I'll show you what I mean." Marvolo lazily flicked his wand, and a yellow light zapped through the air, hitting one side of the wall.

Immediately the wall crumbled down. Everybody fell into silence. The Malfoy Manor was so heavily warded, protected with magically reinforced stone layers that had been armoured throughout the generations of Malfoys, its walls would never crumble just by one spell. It would normally have taken at least ten wizards to make a dent in the ward. But their master, for all his power and glory, managed to make a hole through it with a flick of wand. The Malfoy patriarch was especially pale and distraught when he saw the dent on his wall.

"What you have just witnessed is what Muggles call a chemical reaction. I simply changed the substance of the air, mixing some of the molecules, and created a new element. This reaction produced heat and released a huge amount of energy, which you see brought down even the ward on this Manor— since it is not using magic per se. This is a physical force and wards are useless for protecting against anything outside the realm of magic."

He could see that most of his followers couldn't follow what he said. But several were looking at him with wide eyes. Marvolo smirked. Maybe there was hope, after all.

"Muggles come out with so many sources of energy and types of powerful equipment. So those of you who are interested in learning more, please stay in this room. I will personally teach you. The rest who either don't understand or cannot let your pride go for learning a Muggle subject, may leave after this meeting. But don't be surprised when you are overpowered in the future."

Small murmurs were heard. Marvolo raised his hand and the voices stopped.

"Now, onto the next matter: do you realize how small in number we are now?"

Everybody was silent. They knew that was the truth, but nobody wanted to point it out simply because it seemed like a taboo. For them, being a man and the head of families, bearing only one child per family was pretty shameful. It was true that ever since the last generation, the ability to conceive children had been greatly reduced.

"I can see that this is not a problem for now, but it does affect us in the long run. And with the increasing number of Squibs being born into the pureblood families, this is the time for you to look into another option. Throughout my journey, I have researched very much in depth about this problem and I have come out with one solution."

Marvolo flicked his finger and a vial of potion was suddenly inside his hand. The potion was his masterpiece. He had found the recipe for it within Slytherin's journals. Throughout the last Yule, he'd shielded himself in the Chamber of Secrets and had brewed it with the help of his young Horcrux.

"This is a fertility potion. This is one of the last great Legacies of Slytherin himself. Drinking this will guarantee the fertility of the drinker. It works best if both you and your spouse take it together. This potion also gives you the ability to incorporate the traits of certain magical creatures into your child. Simply add three drops of the essence of your desired magical creature before you drink it. This will give the child magical abilities, and no Squib would be born into your family for at least the next three generations."

"My Lord! That is …genius! Would you grant such blessing over us?" one of the followers cried.

"But this comes with a price," Marvolo said, ignoring the man. "Are you prepared?"

Most of the heads in the room nodded feverously.

"I will demand your support for my campaign in return."

They all nodded, thinking it was fair enough. Marvolo smirked again.

"You also need to add three drops of Muggle blood inside the mixture of the potion. Not _any_ Muggle, of course. You need to select those with the traits you desire as well."

The room exploded into angry hisses.

"That is filthy!"

"Outrageous!"

Marvolo raised his hand again, and the room eventually fell into silence.

"This is what is required based on the Slytherin's Legacy. I don't care if you think that is preposterous. The choice is in your own hands. If you desire a child, you only need to ask. If you don't, then just leave."

The room was silent for a moment. Everybody was waiting for the Lord to continue, or any of their peers to speak. Eventually, Malfoy spoke out.

"Is that all, my lord?"

"…Yes. You are free to go. Oh, I need to tell you something as well. Consider this an order and a warning. Do not touch Harry Potter. For any purpose whatsoever. He is _mine_."

"Yes, my Lord." All his followers bowed down and one by one they left the room after bowing personally to the Dark Lord. Meanwhile Marvolo waited in his chair, counting how many of his followers were open-minded enough to his suggestions. He was quite pleased when found that half of the room was staying for the potions. Meanwhile less than a handful stayed for the lesson about Muggle technology. Marvolo was even more surprised to find Lucius Malfoy staying for both options.

Overall, it was not as bad as he had been expecting.

* * *

><p>"Lucius, please stay behind."<p>

The Malfoy patriarch was not used to his master being that polite, but he stopped walking away and waited. The others had left; first were the ones who desired those potions: they had signed a binding contract (Lucius could really see how his master had changed now) and Marvolo gave them one small vial each. Everybody looked eager to try this—and Lucius wondered whether he could get Narcissa to use the vial. Not that he wanted to use the creature blood (no Malfoy would ever be mixed with creature blood) or mudblood (that was even more disturbing). But maybe they could do something with the potion so that Narcissa could have another child and give Draco a sibling.

Next were those who wished to study Muggle technology, as was suggested by their master. And Lucius knew he had chosen the right option. When he saw what his master could do with this knowledge of 'chemistry', Lucius almost dropped open his jaw. His master further explained that this 'chemistry' was a bit similar to 'transfiguration', even going as far as to suggest that they were essentially the same subject, only that Muggles had come out with means other than magic to produce transfigurational output. True, the Muggles' way seemed more complicated, and transfiguration typically gave a bigger and more desirable result—but when their master showed how changing little parameters could automatically change the very nature of the substances (his master had demonstrated by changing the coal from the fireplace into diamonds of various sizes); the handfuls of followers held their collective breaths in excitement.

"Lucius, I have a big favour I want you to do for me," the man hissed, and from his tone the Malfoy patriarch could tell he meant business. Lucius bowed down.

"Yes, my lord?"

"I desire Harry Potter. I wish to have Harry Potter out from Hogwarts as soon as possible. Would you assist me?"

Lucius could only nod.

And the invisible being inside the room, who was cleaning the debris from the hole in the wall, stopped doing whatever it was doing, rigid with fear.

* * *

><p>Harry Potter frowned as he read through the tome about Animagus. He was sure he could brew the required potion, but he needed moonlight specifically from a full moon, as well as some other more specific ingredients. He could easily gather most of the ingredients from his own personal supply and from the Forbidden Forest, and the Room of Hidden Things helped him a lot by giving most of the expensive stuff; but where could he find the water plants? He couldn't swim, and the Lake looked unwelcoming.<p>

While he chewed on his quill, suddenly there was a small _pop_-ping sound beside him, and when Harry turned, he saw a new House Elf he'd never seen before.

"Harry Potter," it squeaked.

"Yes, hallo." Harry nodded, smiling. "What can I help you with?"

"Harry Potter asked Dobby what to help him with! Harry Potter sir is too noble!" Dobby started to wail and sob into his dirty cloth. In the next moment, Wobby appeared beside Dobby.

"Wobby is here, Harry Potter! We detect different elf!" he shouted and turned at Dobby. "What you want? Are you harm Harry Potter?"

"No! No!" Dobby shook his head. "Dobby here to warn Harry Potter! Something bad going to happen soon! Harry Potter must not leave Hogwarts!"

Harry tilted his head. "I don't have any plan to leave Hogwarts, Dobby. Thank you for the warning."

"Thank you!" Dobby's big eyes blinked and produced fresh tears. "Harry Potter thanked Dobby!"

Wobby looked irritated as he watched Dobby sob into the cloth. He sighed and turned to Harry.

"Harry Potter sir, I will take this elf to kitchen! We sorry for the disturb!" and with that, both of them zipped away from the room.

Harry was left there, even more bewildered than before. Then he realised that he was in the middle of trying to brew a potion and had failed to identify where he could get some ingredients, so he sighed and gave up, packing his books around him. He left the room twenty minutes afterwards, ready to go to the library to continue his research about Necromancy.

Actually there was something weird that he'd noticed when he'd first tried to learn Necromancy. Ever since he had acquired both Dumbledore's wand and the Invisibility Cloak, somehow he'd always managed to get some books that talked about Necromancy. As if these books were attracted to him like a fridge magnet. Not so noticeably at first, but enough to make Harry eventually notice what was happening. Although those books mostly detailed what Harry already knew from Tom (and his chest pained a bit from the thought), it was still amusing to him.

And that was why Harry always carried both items inside his robes whenever he went to the library, while his Phoenix wand refused to leave his sleeve.

When he was near the library, Harry felt a familiar aura grow around him. And suddenly he saw the ghost wolf running towards him. Harry's smile grew wider and he opened his arms. The ghost tackled him, and for a ghost, it was quite solid. Harry fell backwards onto the floor, but he was laughing from a ticklish sensation as the wolf licked his face, hair and neck.

"…Harry? Are you alright?"

Harry looked up—although he didn't stop petting the wolf—and saw his ex-Defence teacher. Professor Lupin. The man looked shabby as usual, but he somehow looked _happy_? _excited_? when he saw Harry.

"Professor?" Harry greeted.

"What are you doing, sitting on the cold floor, Harry?"

"The wolf is licking me… ahahaha, stop it! It is so ticklish!" Harry laughed as the wolf licked his hand and wrist, making Harry giddy with the sensation. "No! Enough!"

"H...Harry? Are you seeing the wolf again?"

"Ye..yes! Ahahahaha, stop! It is so ticklish!"

"Is it… happy?"

"Yes! Professor, can you get it off me? I am happy to meet him as well, but I am very ticklish! Ahhahahaha, no!"

The Professor stood, not knowing what to do even though he truly wanted to stop the 'wolf'. He had been returning from the Headmaster's office; he'd just re-accepted the job as the Defence professor once again. And when he saw Harry Potter giggling on the floor, he just needed to know what had happened. He remembered the pranks he had done as a Marauder and wondered in panic if maybe Harry was being pranked. But apparently it _was_ a prank. It was a wolf. His inner wolf, licking the boy with excitement.

He never realized what Harry meant, but now he needed to believe whatever the boy was saying because truly, the boy was giggling to himself. The only explanation other than Harry Potter being insane, was that Harry spoke the truth and that his wolf, manifested as a ghost, had followed him all along. And honestly he did feel very happy and excited when he saw Harry again—so much as he could even smell the boy's scent from the other corridor and had almost run to catch up to Harry. Also, he realized he considered Harry as a 'cub'.

"Professor! Does it have a name?"

"…Moony."

"Moony, stop!"

* * *

><p>thank you for the reviews and faves! I feel loved.<p>

By the way, any of you can invite me into AO3?


	17. Chapter 17

This chapter is rather short. There is so much to write and so little time, and also so much risk.

Since the witch hunt, I am just dreading the time they would close my account since I wrote so many adult stuff (This story is one of them-since I include the se xu al abuse). So I was hesitant to write anything. Oh, and also my final is starting. in fact I just had one yesterday.

I have gotten this new account by the help of lovely Krysania: h_T_T_P: / / archiveofourown users / Hasegawa

Betaed by Blind_Alchemist sama! Thank you Thank you Thank you! I love you!

Enjoy!

* * *

><p>The pivotal meeting with Moony propagated a whole chain of meetings, which began on that very same day.<p>

Dumbledore had called upon Lupin to return as their DADA Professor, based on so many reasons: first and foremost, to secure Harry's faith in the Light side. Then there were the Dementors, which were assigned to patrol Hogwarts on behalf of the foolish Ministry of Magic. Furthermore, Lupin was the only effective 'shield', in Dumbledore's opinion, that would be able to protect Harry from Sirius Black. Lupin was aware only of the last two reasons for Dumbledore's call; and he gladly compelled with the wishes. Especially after realizing how his inner wolf viewed Harry as his 'cub'.

He took Harry into his quarters. Harry blushed when he saw the room. It had changed to more suit the Professor who now resided inside it; but it still reminded Harry of Professor Lockhart, who had sat rather close to him and even _kissed_ his forehead—_kissed_!

Lupin, not being aware of Harry's lingering embarrassment, simply invited the boy in. Lupin frowned at how small the boy was. He was quite short for his age and gender. His body was slender, leaning more towards skinny. With his currently long hair, Harry looked like a girl from faraway. It was a far cry from what James Potter had looked like when he was Harry's age. And to think they still shared similar features made Lupin wonder sometimes. He had always reminded himself that Harry was his own person, he wasn't his father—but somehow, sometimes, when he caught a glimpse of Harry now and then, he was reminded of the good old old Marauding days, and he would automatically compare the Slytherin boy with his father.

They were so similar, yet so different. Of course, Harry being sorted into Slytherin rather than Gryffindor was their primary notable difference. Until recently, Lupin had wondered why Harry had been Sorted into the House of snakes. But after reading the sensational story chronicling Harry's abuse in the Daily Prophet, Lupin had growled and wrecked the inside of his living room in rage. His sweet Harry! His sweet cub! James' son! How dare the Dursleys…!

Of course, his anger had blocked him from listening to his good conscience, until the day he learned of Sirius' breaking out from Azkaban. He was shocked, and somehow the shock brought him back his sense of rationale. He started to think logically, like the brain of the Marauders he truly was—he began to put down his thoughts in writing, piecing all the facts together, one by one.

Eventually he came to the semi-conclusion that Dumbledore must have _deliberately_ ignored Harry's well being for this long. But, why? And for what?

Lupin had previously put his faith completely in Dumbledore, as the man was the esteemed Father of Light. Every wizard that fancied themselves as 'light-bearers' had always looked up to him. Dumbledore was the epitome of 'goodness': the almighty Father. He so looked the part, with his beard, his glasses, his very posture. Not to mention his age. His way of talking. His steadfast approach to everything. His calmness. His power. His intellect. His charisma. His goal to save Muggles. His most noble aim: everything for the Greater Good.

Was it all true though?

Lupin started to ask himself about it. Why did Dumbledore, the epitome of 'Light and goodness and kindness' let a small kid live in a terribly abusive household? For what? Harry was supposed to be _his_ to take care of.

Yet then, Lupin remembered again that Dumbledore was the one who'd stepped in and fetched Harry, as well as the one who had suggested to Lupin that he shouldn't take care of Harry for fear of biting the boy. He had always lived alone, and Lupin was a werewolf who turned into a demon once a month. How on earth could he take care of a baby? He would accidentally bite Harry and Harry would then be condemned to the life he had. And Lupin knew, more than anyone else, how awful the life as of a werewolf was in the Wizarding society.

But the seed of doubt had been planted—and when Dumbledore had asked him to take care of Harry, Lupin came to the conclusion that Harry somehow was being included in another scheme trumped up by Dumbledore. He thought he knew what the prophecy comprised—James still believed in his innocence, even though the others had thought he was Voldemort's spy. And Lupin thought that the Prophecy had been fulfilled that fateful night. Was there actually more to the whole business?

So now he was at Hogwarts, but he possessed his own hidden agenda. First and foremost of course to train and protect Harry, to provide as much love as he could for the abused boy. And then, he would find out what had truly happened all those years ago, so that he could shield the boy from any further harm—as redemption for thirteen years of neglect.

Lupin poured some tea into the boy's cup and together they enjoyed some silence until their cups were devoid of tea. Harry was busy patting Moony's head, slowly. He missed Annana so much. He wondered whether the Basilisk was still in Hogwarts. Maybe he could relearn Parseltongue and open the gate in the boys' toilet again.

Moony seemed to sense his misery and howled a bit, butting his head onto Harry's knee. Harry smiled.

"Sir, what does Moony eat? Does he eat at all? Being a ghost and everything?"

"Harry…" Lupin started, but he stopped, for he didn't know how to explain. How could he explain to the boy that Moony was his inner wolf?

"…To be honest, I cannot see Moony. I believe you when you say he is very happy to meet you, because I can feel his happiness too. But my eyes cannot see him."

Harry looked contemplative. "Well, that is unusual. I can see auras and sense powers, but Moony seems to be an extension of your magic, sir. You don't have the same power or type of aura like other Wizards I know of. Yet Moony feels like _you_."

"Feels like me?"

"Yes, gentle but dangerous. Kind and big hearted. Maybe your magic turned into you into an Animagus?"

"Where did you learn that?" Lupin asked. "I thought the subject of Animagi wouldn't be taught to you until your fifth year."

Harry blushed, knowing he had been caught red-handed. His Animagus study was a secret after all. "I found a tome, sir. Inside my father's vault. About Animagi. And it was very interesting."

Lupin smiled. James had taken that tome to learn how to transform into an Animagus. It felt so nostalgic. "Don't be afraid, child. Actually, your father was one."

"He was?" Harry perked up.

"Yes, he was. He was a stag."

"A stag? Did he choose to be one?"

"No, Harry. A wizard can only have one Animagus transformation, that is predetermined for him."

"How about you, sir? Do you have one?"

"…Maybe you could say I turned into a wolf."

Harry's eyes widened. Interesting. And Moony distracted him by licking his hand.

Lupin asked again, "Well, how is your research on Animagi going?"

"Not well, at the moment, sir. I have some… restrictions to the ingredients of the potion."

"I can help you with that, if you'd like." Lupin smiled gently, and he was rewarded by a nod and a smile.

"Yes, thank you very much, sir!"

* * *

><p>So began Harry's new conquest of knowledge. This time he focused solely on the subject of Animagi, and since Professor Lupin had started to live inside the castle for the reminder of the holiday, Harry started to visit the Professor's quarters more and more often.<p>

They started on the study of Animagi, mostly, but by day three, Harry was captivated instead by Lupin's tale of his parents—his father, most especially. Lupin's tales of the Marauders filled Harry's mind with wonder. He was of course, fascinated by the tales. Initially Harry felt like he was listening to a story of larger-than-life heroes, and not about his own father. James Potter sounded like the ideal hero for every smaller Hogwarts student who aspired to be a prankster.

The more he listened, the more he associated James with the image in the mirror, the one he assumed as his father. And he questioned: how could the man inside the mirror, who did pulled off all the wonderful pranks and became a sort of idol at Hogwarts, get behind the wheel one night while dead drunk, killing himself and Harry's mother?

Lupin then promised to collect all photos he had of Harry's parents to show Harry when he was done. Harry was delighted and he thanked the professor. Thus, the days passed quickly, filled by hours with Professor Lupin, learning about Animagi and hearing about James Potter's heroic prankster tales. Harry felt grateful for all of it. He was avoiding Professor Snape, and quite frankly, the professor seemed to be also avoiding him. He looked constipated whenever Harry was in the room, and his aura was… was _dark_. Painful. As though the Professor was always in pain. Harry had asked him about it once, but the Professor always told him that he was "fine."

Harry was worried, but he knew better than to push another person's limits. He wasn't sure what to do about his various worries anyway. Because even though he worried about other people, usually they didn't find his concerns worthy of discussion. So he kept to himself and tried to appease the Professor by leaving him alone most of the day. Oh, Harry did miss the times they used to spend together after dinner—those lessons were informative and fun, but if Professor Snape didn't want to be disturbed, then it was alright by him.

Harry also more or less abandoned his study of Necromancy, since now, most of the Necromancy-related books that he hadn't read yet were being kept in the Forbidden section of the library. Whenever he tried to open the books again, they either shrieked or bit his hands. Deciding that he still had other equally important subjects to pursue, he put off the Necromancy lessons until some later date. He had his own notes and from those notes, he had worked out a number of Necromancy rituals that allowed a wizard to summon a certain spirit, in order to manipulate the targeted person's lifespan and to control the person via its own soul. So far Harry had only found information on how to control animals and dead bodies; but no books or tomes of rituals which taught how to control living humans.

It was interesting how some seemingly totally-different sources somehow linked to each other. Judging from the Necromancy books in the Room of Requirement, it appeared that Necromancy held a significant Potions aspect as well. These potions were formulated to control animals—specifically by reducing the control of an animal's soul over its own body, and having the person wielding the Necromancy spell come in and take over the now half-dead body. In other words, a Necromancer more or less deprived the animal of their own free will and instinct, thereby giving the Necromancer nearly perfect control over said animal. The book also argued that since humans were classified as a type of living being, that, although smarter and functionally superior to animals, they still possessed the same basic living system as well as essentially the same DNA as animals; thus, the Necromancy control would theoretically work as well on humans as it would on any animal., On a side note, it was easier to control an already deceased body, compared to a living one.

This ritual was unsurprisingly condemned as a _very_ Dark ritual, and only the Darkest, most skilled Necromancers would ever try to cast it. This type of potion required was supposed to be very unique, but when Harry compared the formula to his Potions books (the ones which Professor Snape had given him) it seemed to him that the Calming Draught and the pain-relief potion were actually two weaker variations of this particular potion (based on the ingredients and the overall process of making).

Another point of Necromancy that piqued Harry's interest was the described 'law of balance': everything, each act of Necromancy, came with a price. Each ritual he read required the wizard to pay a price of an equal value. That was one of the main reasons why Necromancy was hailed as a cursed subject, because sometimes the price was too great beyond reason to pay. The number of Necromancers had decreased dramatically throughout history, due to the many unfortunate accidents that occurred when they were practicing Necromancy.

Thus, Harry decided to put off his studying on said art. It was interesting, but the idea of controlling animals or calling a soul wasn't so attractive to Harry. He had learned this about himself due to his own relentless pursuit of death, and so far Necromancy said nothing about how to create, end, or pursue death. He realized he was getting off tangent, that he was ending up in a place far more divergent from his initial aim. He wished for some guidance, because the more he studied about the subject, the more lost he felt and the scarier it became; but the only one who knew about the forbidden subject more than him was Marvolo/Tom.

And Harry wasn't ready to meet with him. Again.

* * *

><p>In the middle of the week, Blaise sent him a letter, using a very black and handsome eagle. Inside the eagle's claws was a letter containing a box of mini French pastries. Blaise wrote about Draco's birthday party and asked what Harry wanted to do for his birthday. Maybe Harry could ask Professor Snape, his guardian, whether he could hold for him a simple party. Blaise ended the letter with '<em>your best friend, Blaise<em>'. Those words made Harry smile and blush. Oh, he had a friend now! A best friend!

Then Harry frowned. He knew his birthday was right around the corner, but who would want to hold a party for him? He didn't want to burden his professor, especially since now Snape didn't seem too happy whenever Harry was around. How could he even begin to ask him? Harry knew that a party was a messy and stressful event, like Duddley's old birthday parties which Aunt Petunia would plan, usually up to an entire week in advance each time. And to be honest, he wasn't sure that people would want to come. So in his return letter, he politely thanked his friend for the sweets, answered Blaise's suggestions and simultaneously told his best friend his concerns and not to worry about throwing him a party. He then went to the Owlery to send the message.

Harry laughed when he saw Blaise's eagle settled beside Hedwig, preening the beautiful owl's white feathers. Hedwig looked annoyed by the attention, and she flew to Harry when she saw her owner approaching. When Harry apologized to her, for the letter would not be sent by her, Hedwig hooted loudly in displeasure and dug her talons deeper into Harry's shoulder.

Harry winced in pain, then called the eagle to come down. He tied the letter to Blaise's pet. The eagle looked smug, and it pecked Hedwig's head before flying away. Hedwig hooted loudly, in displeasure and shame. Harry laughed and patted the owl, in the end taking the owl with him into the Room of Requirement.

* * *

><p>Snape knew his Lord was angry. Maybe even beyond angry. He didn't know. He didn't <em>want<em> to know. But the Mark kept getting darker and darker every day, agonizingly burning his flesh. His right arm was as dark as coal now, although it still retained its basic function—but using it was now always accompanied with pain now. The Mark on his skin tugged at his magical reserve, forcing him to randomly Apparate to where the Dark Lord was. Not all the time, thankfully, but enough times to make Snape feel unsettled.

He was frankly very scared. If he went to wherever his master wanted, he knew he wouldn't return. Voldemort had stated clearly enough on his very face that the man would skin Snape alive himself if he ever saw him again. And the Dark Lord's words were always something to be feared, no matter what. The man sadistically prided himself on his ability to deliver any promise of pain he made, period.

Yet his arm got darker and darker each day; now he used gloves to cover his black hand. And the pain was killing him slowly. No amount of pain relief potion or Calming Draught helped. He hadn't slept in three days; four days counting from the moment he smuggled Harry back into Hogwarts without telling his Lord.

_It was worth it._ Snape reminded himself. _It was __completely__ worth it._

_Even with Harry avoiding him all the time and getting cosy with the werewolf instead. It was definitely worth it._

He groaned and placed himself face-down on the sofa. The pain was unbearable…

"Severus?" Suddenly there was a knock on his door. Snape groaned into the arms of the sofa. Not now. He couldn't show his weakness to anyone. But the burning pain was taking all his pride and control away. He almost couldn't breathe.

"Severus? I am here to get the wolfsbane… Are you alright!"

Snape looked up to see the werewolf running towards him with a worried expression on his face.

_Great. Just great_. The last person he wanted to see was rushing towards him, all concerned.

And then he lost consciousness.

* * *

><p>He opened up his eyes to see two heads, looking at him worriedly.<p>

One was that of Dumbledore's and the other's was the werewolf's. Snape groaned from annoyance. The pain suddenly shot up back into his brain and he groaned again, this time from pain.

"Since when did this start?" Dumbledore asked, getting straight to the point, which was unusual to him. Which also showed how devastating his condition was. Maybe the old Headmaster had started to worry about the continuity of his only inside spy.

"Recently," Snape answered, trying to push himself up. He was not an invalid. His hand was truly in burning pain, but he could still walk. He realized that he was inside his own quarters, on his sofa.

"Severus, your arm is in a very bad condition. Have you tried any pain relief as of yet?" the werewolf asked. Snape growled.

"Of course I have, you imbecile! Who do you think I am? Be gone from my quarters; I don't want a creature like you near me!"

Lupin looked dejected and he walked away, but stopped at a distance and turned back in worry. Dumbledore frowned.

"He was the one who took care of you, my child…"

"No, he wasn't. This is nothing. And there is nothing you can do. I have tried everything," Snape snapped back, feeling even angrier. What was wrong with everyone? Why they would care about him? It was annoying. Now that he didn't need them, they were all swooping down like a mother hen towards him…

"Professor, are you alright now?"

Snape looked towards the door and found his charge standing behind a half-closed door. Harry was looking at him in worry. Those eyes were so honest; Harry would never be able to lie to another. Snape only wanted to calm the child down. After all, he was doing this for Harry, so he wanted to keep Harry oblivious and safe. He didn't want to burden the child with guilt or anything; if ever the child did feel guilty about this, or knew anything… His mind was in a whirlpool, but his impassive face hid everything.

Pity for him, he didn't know that Harry could read auras. And in a way, detecting auras was similar to practicing Legilimency, although more subtle. The pain Harry saw in the Professor's aura was obvious, and it was centralised on his arm. Over a certain mark that had a very, very dark magic surrounding it.

"I am fine, child," Snape found himself answering. But Harry didn't seem to be satisfied with the answer.

"It's your arm, sir. You need to stop it from burning any further…"

"How did you know, Harry?" Lupin asked, reminding Snape that the werewolf was still inside his chambers.

"That mark on the Professor's arm is the source of the ailment. I think I can stop the pain." Harry opened the door further, revealing himself fully. The boy looked very worried, and yet very determined. "Can I, sir?"

"Child, this is something that you should not attempt to do. This has nothing to do with you." Snape shook his head, grabbing his burnt arm. But Harry stubbornly came forward.

"Severus, please let Harry try." Suddenly Dumbledore spoke out. Everyone in the room turned to him. Dumbledore continued, "If there is another who could stop this mark, it is Harry."

Snape winced. He knew why Dumbledore was saying this. Because of the prophecy. The stupid prophecy that stated Harry would have power that the Dark Lord knew not. The power to become the Dark Lord's equal. And of course, Dumbledore (being Dumbledore) fancied himself to know exactly what had happened, and thus, there stemmed his logic that a mere thirteen year old boy could overcome the power of a Dark Lord.

But the other two people in the room seemed to believe the old man, and Harry came forward. Before Snape could say anything, Harry was already holding his burnt arm, and Snape could feel the oncoming influx of energy. Honestly, he could really _feel_ it.

It was a soothing, calming and pain-relieving energy. He found himself panting in relief. The pain had been quite unbearable, but Harry's magic skilfully enveloped his arm. Slowly, but surely, his arm turned into a fleshy, greyish colour. Quite a contrast compared to its initial blackish state. Harry's body suddenly buckled downwards, and the magical influx stopped coming.

Snape groaned again; the pain was back. Yet his arm was still greyish, at least.

Harry was on the floor, his small back being supported by the Headmaster. The boy was sweating heavily, and his breathing was uneven.

"Harry, are you alright?" Lupin asked, and he dared crawl nearer to his cub.

"Yes, I am just… catching my breath." Harry wiped his face until it was free of the sweat. "It is quite hard to remove that malignant thing."

"Remove…?" Dumbledore was shocked. "Are you saying that you can remove the Dark Mark, Harry?"

"What mark, sir?" Harry asked, this time steadying himself upwards. He'd overestimated his magic abilities. It seemed that the source of the pain, the mark itself, held a stronger curse than he had anticipated. And so, he tried again, with more force this time.

This time he was ready when the Mark back-lashed him with an enormous shock of energy. Harry winced but managed to hold steady, and his efforts were paid with the eventual fading of the Mark. He wasn't aware of how his Professors were watching him with wide eyes; he held his place until he managed to erase it all. The Mark was completely gone.

It was the last thing Harry remembered before he closed his eyes and fell asleep.

* * *

><p>Harry opened his eyes when he felt something pecking at his head.<p>

He was in his bed; he wasn't sure what had happened, but his body felt so heavy and he was so weak. Tired. He wanted to sleep more.

The noise came from above his head. He looked up to see two avian creatures on top of his head board. One was his lovely white owl lady, Hedwig, and the other was the black eagle who'd carried Blaise's letter. The eagle looked like he was puffing his chest and trying to look important, while Hedwig was huffing. Clearly the owl was annoyed.

"Hallo," the boy managed to croak, despite the raspy voice. How they had managed to come into the room was beyond Harry's reasoning at the moment, but he welcomed the company. Both birds turned to him. Hedwig suddenly flew to Harry's pillow, and pecked the eagle when he tried to come near Harry. It was clear that Hedwig was preventing the eagle from coming anywhere near Harry.

"Hedwig." Harry smiled. The owl hooted and preened Harry's hair as gently as she knew how. The eagle used the chance to get near Harry and extend its leg.

Harry tried to move upwards, but it was quite straining. He was really tired. He couldn't move. Not much.

"Sorry, I can't move my body at the moment…" Harry apologised, just in time to see Professor Lupin open the door and see that the boy was awake.

He ended up being fussed over by the DADA teacher, and then Professor Snape also came into the room and stayed by Harry's bedside. The professor seemed to want to say something important, but he always stopped himself before doing so. Meanwhile, Professor Lupin took the letter from the eagle and read it out loud for Harry. When he arrived at the part about a birthday party, Harry felt his stomach clench in worry. He had truly forgotten about that. Now the professors knew about it. And it was truly embarrassing as well as emotionally devastating.

Blaise had started the letter by telling him about his own holiday to France with his mother; but he spent the majority of the letter talking about throwing a party for Harry—even trying to ensure Harry that Professor Snape would gladly throw him a birthday party, if only Harry would ask. The boy also mentioned how the other Slytherins in their group were delighted with the idea, and Draco had already offered to throw the party at his place. It would be a small and modest affair, Blaise promised, and Harry would definitely have a great time.

When Harry heard that Blaise had ended his letter with '_from your best friend, Blaise'_again, Harry unconsciously smiled. Yes, he had a best friend now. A friend who wanted to throw a party for him. Somehow it filled his chest with warmth.

His feelings turned into those of dread very quickly when he saw the looks on his professors' faces. They both looked mortified and ashamed, from what exactly, Harry did not know. Professor Snape suddenly spoke up, saying he agreed that he should give Harry a party, but it needed to be inside Hogwarts since the Malfoy mansion wasn't as safe. Professor Lupin then started to pet Harry's head and asked him to go back to sleep, and to not worry about anything as they (the professors) would take care of everything else. Harry tried to talk down the idea of having a party—he didn't want to burden anyone, please—but Professor Lupin was adamant that Harry would get his party, while Professor Snape silently agreed with the DADA Professor.

Harry admitted defeat and went back to sleep. It was actually quite a sweet thing, to have the two professors by his bedside, on one side each, and both holding his hand. As though he had parents, a mother and a father. Lupin would be the mother and Snape would be the father—or would it be the other way around? Harry smiled to himself. And they were having an argument about Harry's birthday party—just like Harry's imaginings of what typical parents should be arguing about. It was a joke he would keep to himself, because he knew that the Professors (especially Professor Snape) wouldn't appreciate the funniness of the moment. He felt weird about having people watching him sleep, but soon he surrendered back into sleep. He was really tired after all.

* * *

><p>Lupin plunked down the list he'd made for Harry's party. He was seated in a chair, in Snape's quarters, since he'd wanted to keep a close watch on Harry—the boy had just fallen asleep half an hour ago. It was shameful for him to forget the boy's birthday, after making an oath to always love the boy. And the way Harry refused to have a party for himself—it made him sad, and his chest hurt. And the more Harry wanted to shoot down the idea, the more he wanted Harry to have a party and be happy. At least for that day.<p>

Alas, they ran into some bad luck as usual. Harry's birthday happened to fall on the date during which the assigned dementors would come and surround the castle. Dumbledore had tried his best to prevent the dementors from arriving, but Minister Fudge persisted that at least two dementors should always be near Harry Potter. The Minister was very good about arguing that Harry Potter needed to be protected from the Azkaban fugitives. The rest of the dementors (around 15 of them) would come along with the Hogwarts Express.

Suddenly there was another presence in the room. Lupin looked up to see Snape emerging from his personal chambers. Snape had gone to his chambers once Harry was sleeping and he hadn't said anything about being against Lupin staying in his living room, so for once Lupin was thankful.

"Severus, you look pale. You should get some rest," Lupin started. He truly worried over the man—it was just a half-day ago that Harry had healed Snape. The Potions Master was still pale and haggard, but he was adamant that he should stay awake in case Harry ever needed him. Which made Lupin feel warm inside. At least he knew now that Snape truly cared for Harry. That was one more person on his list of dependable people who could care for Harry.

"I am fine," the Potions Professor sourly answered. He looked unhappy to find the werewolf inside his quarters, but ever since Harry had fainted, Snape hadn't commented on Lupin's presence. "Lupin, I…"

"Yes?"

"I ..thank you." The man grimaced. The act of thanking the werewolf was very painful for him. "For the help. And for taking care of Harry as well."

Lupin smiled warmly. "I thank you as well. You have taken care of Harry better than I ever could. This time I promise I will be a better uncle for him. You have done a good job as a guardian, Severus. Harry seemed fine and healthy when I saw him last week."

Snape seemed like he was searching desperately for a response to that. But in the end he settled for a simple offer of, "Tea?". Lupin nodded and Snape flicked his wand to _A__ccio_ the tea pots and two cups towards them.

"Lupin."

"Yes?"

"Would you… help me arrange Harry's birthday party? I will ask Dumbledore about the place and time, but about the rest, I am not so sure how to go about doing this."

Lupin smiled. "Oh, don't you worry, Severus. I have made the guest list already."

Snape nodded. "Good. And I have divided the wolfsbane inside three separate vials, so you can use it accordingly for the few months."

"Thank you, Severus." Lupin smiled and somehow the atmosphere turned much better. They continued into some discussion over the details of the party. They came into several minor arguments over time, mostly over how many people to invite, but they reached agreements easily on the subjects of the presents and food. Dumbledore came some time later and found the two men busy discussing about the specific colour of the ceiling, and he chuckled, inviting himself into the discussion.

The scene unfolded just like it had in Harry's imagination. Pity the boy was too deep in his slumber to be able to enjoy it.

* * *

><p>What do you think of Severus and Lupin?<p>

I also feel a bit cheesy for throwing a birthday party plot. Sometimes this subplot is overused and make me cringe when I read them-it felt out of place and so OoC. But it is needed, I assure you. XD Thank you for reading!


	18. Chapter 18

Warning! There is a bit of shounen ai here (a.k.a. soft slash) -and I have my reasoning in the bottom of this chapter- and also Harry Box's warning for you who dont like the memory of Harry ... servicing his uncle.

Beta-ed by Blind_Alchemist sama. She is the best beta in the world! XD Thank you so much!

And I am now in AO3 as well. Visit me there!h_t_t_p : / /  archiveofourown .O_R_G / users/ Hasegawa

Enjoy!

* * *

><p>Blaise slowly entered the Great Hall. It looked like the Great Hall had been momentarily changed into a room full of floating foods (most notably, cakes) and firecrackers. The room was quite noisy, the din reaching almost dinner-in-a-school-term levels, even though the number of people in the room didn't amount to even a quarter of Hogwarts' usual student population.<p>

On top of the table lay copious amounts of food, and although nothing was especially special about the spread (he was a Zabini, after all—he knew _special; _his mother loved exotic, expensive food), it was nonetheless abundant in quantity, as well as very enticing in appearance. In the other corner of the room there was a table just for presents—they comprised quite a stacked mountain, and most of them were still gift wrapped. And in the middle of everything was Harry, chatting and blushing furiously with a man who dressed in old, battered, semi-formal dress robes.

"Blaise!"

The boy in question smiled when he saw Harry running towards him. His chest felt good, because clearly Harry had recognized him and was happy to see him. The green eyed boy ran toward him and smiled.

"Blaise, thank you for coming!"

"Of course I would have come— I am your best friend after all, Harry." Blaise smiled, unconsciously giving the boy his warmest smile ever. "Happy birthday. You look great."

"I am!" Harry told him excitedly. It made Blaise smile because rarely did Harry Potter have the reason to be this happy. "I am so excited, Blaise! Can you believe it? I am having a birthday party! And people are coming! They even gave me presents! And look, the food is everywhere, the dishes are flying in, and Professor Lupin was the one who made them all fly! Come here, I'll show you!"

Harry turned and grabbed Blaise's hand. Blaise smirked at the very happy, very beautiful boy. And he nearly stopped in his tracks. As they were standing shoulder to shoulder like this, Blaise was suddenly reminded of how attractive Harry was. Of how sweet the boy was. How attracted he was to Harry. How deep he was in the so-called feeling… of being in '_like'_.

Harry came only up to Blaise's chin in terms of height. The green eyed boy was flushing from happiness and excitement and it made him look even more adorable, if that were possible. His eyes were shining unusually brightly, and he kept talking and talking, making various shapes with those sweet lips of his. Harry exhibited two dimples on either side of each cheek, making the boy look even more beautiful. His dress robes, which were deep green in colour, perfectly matched and accented the colour of his eyes. His hand on Blaise's arm felt so warm and soft. Harry looked huggable. Harry looked adorable. Harry looked enticing. And the most important thing was, Harry had showed him how happy he was just to see Blaise coming into the Hall.

Blaise found himself flushing, and thankful for his rather dark skin tone. And he let himself be tugged along by Harry around the room, talking to the guests and enthusiastically taking anything Harry offered him to eat. He was sure he looked a bit like a fool, but he was a happy fool at the moment, and he would sacrifice looking foolish—_well, really anything_— for Harry's happiness.

* * *

><p>Draco Malfoy watched as Harry Potter tugged along the heir of the Zabini family, Blaise, around the room. The platinum-blond boy couldn't help but chuckle to himself.<p>

_Yeah, of course, Blaise was not 'attracted' to Potter at all…_

He then spared Blaise from further criticism by looking around the hall. He frowned when he saw the guests standing around the room. The fireplace, which was clearly stationed there to serve as the party guests' only means of arrival, flared again. This time, a female mudblood prefect from Ravenclaw came out. He sneered when he saw one of the older 'Weasels' coming towards her. It was clear that they were in a relationship, and frankly it disgusted Draco.

How low could the Weasel family fall? Not only had they become blood traitors, now one of the sons was actually _courting_ a mudblood! He ignored them as the two talked briefly to Harry, the mudblood congratulating Harry as though they knew each other very well. The couple then left the Great Hall, hand in hand. Disgusting.

He remembered his father's advice to never fall for anyone that was not up to a Malfoy's high standards. They were the Malfoys, after all. Malfoy's standard was the best and only the best could join them in holy matrimony. That's why he approved of Blaise's feelings towards Harry, because, although Potter's mother was a mudblood, Potter himself was still a half-blood. And being a half-blood from one of the most important Wizarding families ever, Harry would be viewed as highly a pure-blood once again if he married another pure-blood.

And back to the guest list. Draco sighed in disappointment. One of the main reasons he'd initially offered the Malfoy Manor for the occasion was in order to control the guest list. He didn't want Harry Potter to be contaminated further by any more unworthy people, especially those from outside Slytherin. Also, his father had actually requested him to think of ways on how to invite Harry to the Manor as soon as possible. His father had acted almost impatiently in this request; frankly, Draco had never seen him act this way before.

Oh, how right he was. It was clear that Harry hadn't had much say in the way of his guest lists. He understood that every Slytherin student in Harry's year had the right to be there, but the whole Weasel Clan? The red heads made the room look unbearably bright and cheap. The twins in particular were ruining the party by running their pranks. And Draco knew very well how much the youngest Weasel hated Harry—or how jealous he was of him, which was more likely—and yet even he was there, in the corner, eating treats non stop. Disgusting.

And the Longbottom Squib, along with his grandmother, was here as well. In fact, there were a lot of adults that he didn't know and he knew shouldn't be here. Who was the shabby, poor as dirt looking man whom Harry kept talking to? Draco was sure Harry didn't have any living family (which made him pity the boy. Harry Potter, despite being the poster boy of the Light, the hero and the Boy-Who-Lived; incurred Draco's pity more than his awe. Heck, even Draco's mother unintentionally dropped two tear drops when she read the morning newspaper that day, which chronicled how Harry was saved from those foolish, abusive Muggles).

He stopped mulling through his train of thoughts when Parkinson suddenly came out from the fireplace, looking smug. Draco winced and tried to run away, but he was too late. The girl had already spotted him.

She ran towards him. So _unladylike_. Draco quickened his steps. There was a slim chance that he could still make it to the men's washroom, his only refuge. But the girl was faster. And he was caught.

Draco surrendered to his fate when the girl physically attached herself to Draco for the rest of the whole day.

* * *

><p>Harry dragged Blaise around the room, and then they stepped out from the Great Hall, as per Blaise's request, to have more time alone outside the Hall. They walked through the corridor and Harry was glad Blaise was with him. His 'best friend' let Harry talk the entire time, while he attentively listened. He chuckled whenever Harry was particularly animated, explaining how Professor Snape and Professor Lupin had prepared the party for him.<p>

They went through one of the Hogwarts corridors, and Blaise eventually stopped following the other boy. He told Harry he would be right back, he just needed to pay a quick visit to the bathroom. Harry nodded and patiently waited for his 'best friend', and then he saw that the door by the end of the corridor was slightly open. It was strange, since usually the rooms were kept locked until after the holiday ended. That's why Harry would keep only to the Professor's quarters, the Room of Requirement and the Library once the holiday started. He walked towards the room and what he saw next shocked him out of his mind.

He couldn't believe his eyes. In front of him were Percy and Penelope, both having their arms around the other's body, and their mouths were locking up together. Harry knew this. It was a kiss. His aunt and uncle had done it several times before going to bed. Or in the morning, when Duddley hadn't woken up and they weren't aware that Harry was in the kitchen cooking their breakfast. Harry swore he saw Percy's tongue slipping into Penelope's mouth. It looked weird, to say the least.

Inside his head, Harry's Box started to shake.

Why would they want to do that, such an unhygienic act? Slipping your tongue inside another person's mouth felt gross, didn't it? And since his uncle and aunt did it, didn't that mean it should only be done by married couples? Were Penelope and Percy married already?

Harry stepped backwards, and unfortunately made some noises in the process. It snapped the couple back to reality, from their own lovey dovey world, and both turned to Harry. Within seconds, they both turned very red.

"Ha..Harry, what are you doing here?"

"I … I am just…" Harry stuttered. _What he was doing again?_ He didn't know. The only thing he knew for sure at that moment was to run away from that place as far and as fast as he could. So he turned to the other side and tried to run.

"Wait! Harry!" Percy's calling him made Harry stop in his tracks. Harry swallowed hard and turned back, eyes darting everywhere but at the couple.

It seemed that Harry's face clearly showed his distaste towards the snogging and the Head Boy could read it clear as day. Thus, he tried to explain, "Harry, please listen. That was…"

"You don't need to explain. I know that was a kiss. Your tongues look… they are a little bit weird. But I never knew that you two were married." Harry shook his head. No, he didn't want to listen to their explanation. It was a kiss, and it was _disgusting_. He was familiar with the usual kisses on the forehead and cheek, which comprised typical affectionate greetings from parents to their children, but the thought of having the tongue of another inside your mouth was too much for him. That act looked… uncomfortable. Harry was sure as hell he didn't want to ever do it.

"Harry, please look at me." Suddenly Penelope grabbed his arm. "That was a lover's kiss, and it is… not only for married couples."

"Yes, Harry." Percy tried to help. "A kiss can be done by people who really love each other."

_So that was a lover's kiss. For people who love each other. **Love**. A concept that he would never understand. Something he would never obtain in his life. Love._

Harry held his breath. "…So you two _love_ each other?"

The couple blushed deeply; one looking at the other, but in the end Percy was the one who answered. "Yes. I love Penelope and I am going to propose to her once I get my job in the Ministry."

"Oh." Harry bit his lip. "It's okay then."

"Harry…" Penelope gently asked, "Can you please not tell anybody about this?"

Harry watched as the couple's expectant faces gave him their full attention. In the end, he nodded, just to relieve them. But honestly, Harry couldn't let it go from his mind. So that was a lover's kiss. Only for people who loved each other. So that meant that any couple who kissed each other like that, truly loved each other?

Was this some kind of rule for 'normals' that he didn't know of?

He was distracted when he heard Blaise's voice calling for him. It seemed that the African Italian boy was looking for him. Harry turned towards Blaise and left the couple behind him.

His Harry's Box shook again, threatening the fragile harmony of his mind.

* * *

><p>The news of the sudden delivery of the dementors was not very amusing for Dumbledore. He was told that the new Head of Magic Enforcement himself would come to see that the first two dementors would be able to successfully guard Hogwarts. To come at the same time as Harry's birthday party was too bizarre to be a coincidence. It was clear that Voldemort was trying his best to come into the castle in order to prey on Harry.<p>

Dumbledore shook his head. Poor, poor boy.

"Good afternoon." Suddenly a voice he knew too well materialized in front of him.

A group of people Apparated in front of him, in the outmost perimeter of Hogwarts. There were five of them total, and Dumbledore recognized two of them as the Order's spies in the Ministry: Kingsley Shacklebolt and David McLaggen. One Auror was an unknown entity and another was Evan Rosier, a Death Eater. Dumbledore automatically calculated right then and there the probability of there being a duel, and he felt a bit better when he realized that his group outnumbered Voldemort's men at the moment. But he knew there was a possibility that Voldemort was already planting some of his Death Eaters around the school perimeters… especially with the presence of dementors behind them.

Marvolo Riddle smiled in front of him, smugly raising his hands in the form of the universal surrendering gesture.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Riddle." Dumbledore felt himself grabbing his hidden wand.

"Please calm yourself, Mr. Dumbledore. It is unbecoming of you to be that distrustful, I suppose? Especially with your _grandfatherly_ approach… I know we have started things off rather rockily, but I am here with my most humble regards to keep Har.._Hogwarts_ safe."

Dumbledore didn't move an inch, so Marvolo turned back to give a sign for his subordinates to release the sacred stones with runes, which created the wards that contained the dementors. The dementors immediately began roaming around once they were given the freedom, and one of them had the audacity to actually try to pass through Dumbledore, into Hogwarts.

Dumbledore felt the temperature around them dropping suddenly. But he stood tall, along with Marvolo and Shacklebolt. The other three men weren't dealing so well with the changes; they visibly paled and cringed.

Suddenly a powerful blast was heard, and they all turned to see the Dementor being expelled hard by the wards of Hogwarts.

"Ah, good, they are working." Marvolo smiled. "So my job is done here… except if you wish to be polite and invite me in for a cup of tea?"

Dumbledore grimly answered. "Maybe not today, Tom. Perhaps some other time."

"Ah, what a pity." Marvolo shrugged and he signalled for his subordinates to Disapparate. When all of them were gone, Marvolo turned to Dumbledore.

"Hello, Dumbledore."

"Hello, Tom."

"Do you find my new face enticing?"

"No matter how polished you look now, Tom, you are still a lost child through and through, and the only thing you can ever attract is death."

Marvolo just smiled. "I do wish you would invite me for a spot of tea. It would be most lovely."

"I will never let you into Hogwarts. And even if I wanted to, the wards wouldn't let you."

"How would you know?" Marvolo smirked, and at the same moment he pulled out his wand and attacked Dumbledore. His silent casting was able to distract Dumbledore since he had the element of surprise. He cast a complex chain of spells and hexes, cornering Dumbledore quickly, forcing the older man to take a few steps backwards, one by one. Marvolo then attacked with a double casting of spells, with one particularly vicious spell hidden beneath a _'bombarda'_ spell. This time, the fallout burrowed deeply into Dumbledore's vulnerable shoulder, and the bleeding, elderly man was thrown back onto one of the wards of Hogwarts.

At that particular moment, while the ward was automatically opened to allow Dumbledore in, with a swish of his wand Marvolo turned himself into the form of black smoke. He pushed through the ward, breaking successfully into the castle grounds.

* * *

><p>Blaise was worried. Ever since he had come out from the washroom, Harry had been silent. The boy was pale, and the blushing excitement that had previously lit up his face, was completely gone. What had happened?<p>

Blaise tried to ask him, of course. And of course, as Blaise expected, the emerald eyed boy refused to answer. Harry was shutting down and retracting back into his mind. Blaise frowned and decided to bring back the boy back into the Great Hall.

Just to see a man he recognized from the newspaper, the man called Marvolo Riddle, walking towards them in a hurry from the other end of the corridor.

For a moment Blaise felt that he knew the man. He had personally seen the man, from somewhere that wasn't a newspaper. The man was dangerous. But he forced himself to be logical, and then it sounded ridiculous. No, he'd never met the man, never seen him before, if you didn't count the photos from the Daily Prophet. Of course he had never met the current Head of the Auror Department.

"Harry." The man called out. The voice was calm, but somehow, it made the hairs on the back of Blaise's neck stand up in fear. It seemed to catch Harry's attention at once, as the boy snapped out of his reverie and suddenly dashed from Blaise's side, running towards the opening of the Great Hall, from where they'd originally come from. It was perfectly clear that Harry was running from the man. And the man quickened the pace of his steps, undoubtedly determined to catch Harry.

Without realizing it, he put himself in between the frightened, running boy, and the intimidating stranger.

"Cut it out. Harry obviously isn't willing to see you, sir."

"…Mr. _Zabini_. My pleasure. Move aside, young sir, as this is not any of your concern."

Marvolo's tone was like Snape's; ice-cold and intimidating. Blaise remained frozen. Before he could say anything, the man passed through him, following Harry's trail. And suddenly his mind went blank, and he looked at his own hands, wondering why the hell he was standing alone in front of the entrance of the Great Hall.

Where was Harry, by the way?

* * *

><p>Harry ran away. As fast as his feet could take him. And that meant quite fast, since he was used to running from Duddley. He ran and ran, looping around the corner, hiding for a moment, then dashing up, up, up the stairs, up, around the corner, running the whole while. As fast as he could. He was running for his life.<p>

_No_, he didn't want to meet the man. Whatever the man's current name was.

He was sweating and nervous and scared. He was shocked to his bones. When he first saw the man's silhouette emerging from the other side of the corridor, Harry had already recognized who it was. And when he felt the aura—well, he knew it was Marvolo/Tom for sure. And he didn't want to face him. _No. No. __H__e must run_. So he ran and left Blaise behind.

He had no time to worry about Blaise. _No_, he was shaking hard. His body was cold, even colder than from the time he'd found Percy kissing Penelope. _No. No._ _He need__ed__ to run._

And he saw the door—the perfect place to hide.

He entered the Room of Requirement, hoping the door would close faster than usual, and hid behind the Mirror of Erised. He gathered himself into a small ball, curling his feet and locking them inside his circled arms. His body swung backwards and forwards, slowly, while he prayed as silently as he could.

_Please don't make Marvolo find me here, please don't make Marvolo find me; I doesn't want to meet Marvolo._

Then his wish was crushed when he heard the door opening behind him. Harry cuddled himself even tighter, trying to be as small as possible.

"Harry."

The voice was familiar. The aura was familiar. Harry knew he couldn't run anymore, but he didn't move from his hiding place behind the mirror.

"I see that you have found the Room of Requirement."

Harry bit his lip, refusing to allow himself any chance to speak. He didn't want to meet Marvolo. The man seemed like he knew of Harry's current state of mind, and he continued, even without waiting for Harry's response.

"This room was perfect for hiding something, anything… or (including(?) I also really like what you have here, too) oneself. I used to hide one of my most important possessions here… but I have taken it back. Yes, this room can only lend you some time to hide whatever it is you need to conceal, but sooner or later you need to come out and face reality."

Harry closed his eyes. He knew he was running. He knew what Marvolo was saying. And for a moment he was reminded of how Marvolo had been practically his teacher in everything when he was just a first year student—it was Marvolo who'd taught him Potions, Charms, Transfiguration, everything that he needed to know, and about the Chamber of Secrets. _Annana_.

Harry almost jumped from his hiding place when Marvolo continued, "You know, Harry…" The man spoke slowly, "This room normally only allows one user at any given time. I shouldn't have been able to come in here. Thus…this means you actually _want_ me to come in."

"No," Harry blurted out, shaking his head. _No. __H__e didn't want to meet Marvolo. No, __it wasn't true__._

He heard Marvolo chuckling. And Harry berated himself for blurting out. Silence fell once again between them, and, like a lost puppy, Harry hid his head between his legs.

"Happy birthday." Suddenly the man spoke again.

Out of politeness, Harry responded, "Tha..Thank you."

There was silence. Neither Harry nor Marvolo spoke as each waited for the other to speak.

In the end, Marvolo surrendered first. "I will let you go for now. But remember, you won't be able to run from me any longer. I will be near. Always."

And Harry heard the footsteps clicking towards the door.

"Wait!" Harry found himself asking. And the footsteps stopped. Harry stood up, albeit a bit shakily. He came out from the place he was hiding, and he saw the outline of the man under the dim light of the room. The man was wearing a set of black, smart robes, with a silk green scarf that was worthy of a Malfoy's wardrobe. In his hand was a cane, carved in a serpent shape. And his raven hair was combed nicely towards the back, revealing a very handsome, very smart, very sharp looking man. It nearly took Harry's breath away.

"Yes?" The man smiled triumphantly.

Harry choked. The man looked very similar to the Tom he'd met when the diary had showed him Tom's memory of the Chamber of Secrets. An older version of Tom, perhaps. And that intrigued Harry. The boy felt the longing to just run and hug the gorgeous man, to beg him to never leave him alone again. Harry wanted to kneel and beg Marvolo/Tom to take Harry with him, away from Hogwarts. With a burst of nostalgia, Harry felt the same emotions he'd experienced back in his first year, when he thought of Marvolo as his saviour that would rescue him from the awful Dursleys. Harry mentally retreated to his old first-year self, the one who desperately needed someone to care for him, and would have gladly be served as a house elf for Marvolo, if only Marvolo would take him along.

And his Harry's Box shook even harder in his head.

Harry looked away. "I… How is Annana? I miss her," the words tumbled randomly from his mouth.

Marvolo looked surprised at the question, but he answered. "She is doing very well. And she misses you too. Come along, I can let you meet her again."

"But... I can't speak Parseltongue anymore."

"That is a troublesome matter, but nothing I can't help you with. Come."

"Is it why you abandoned me?" Harry asked, hoarsely, broaching the question he'd wanted to ask so badly ever since Marvolo had come to him that day in Diagon Alley. "Why did you leave me? Is it because I cannot speak Parseltongue anymore?"

Marvolo was silent for a moment before replying, "No, child. It wasn't because of that."

"Then …why?"

* * *

><p>The child's expression stopped Marvolo from saying anything else. It was a mixture of deep longing, hurt and the expectation of further pain. Marvolo looked away. How could he explain that it his intentions were for the best at that particular moment? Harry's magic was being drained by the mirror of Erised, and if Marvolo had stayed inside Harry any longer, he would have leeched off Harry's remaining magic and Harry would then have been doomed to live as a Squib for the remainder of his days. Or worse, possibly die from magical exhaustion. How would he explain that he didn't want Harry to be a Squib, or even worse, die because of him? How could he explain <em>that<em> to the very boy he'd once promised death to?

"Is it because I am stupid? A f-freak?" Harry started to stutter. "Is it because I didn't study as hard as you wanted me to? Because I am nothing but a useless freak?" He started to shake. "Why did you come back at all, then? And then leave me again? Is this all a big game to you? To appear whenever you want in my life, and then abandon me, again and again and again? Is this that FUN to you?"

Marvolo couldn't find the right answer, which was ironic because he usually had the perfect retort to just about any accusation thrown his way. And he was wasting so much time, talking to the boy. He could just grab the boy and take Harry with him. Dumbledore could burst in at any time now, and Marvolo knew he should hurry. His ability of getting into this room had been only due to his carefully planned infiltration of the castle, under the cover of the delivery of the dementors. He knew he was acting very recklessly, but he had desperately needed to see Harry as soon as possible.

The hex he'd hit Dumbledore with was a strong Memory-type charm, which did not exactly work like the Obliviate spell, but worked more along the lines of changing the fabric of Dumbledore's short-term memory, so that Dumbledore couldn't dispense his memory into the Penseive to use as proof that Marvolo-as-Voldemort had attacked him. If the old man ever tried to investigate his memory, the attacker would appear very unclearly in the Penseive, similar to the manifestation of a tampered memory. With a tampered memory, Dumbledore would thereby have no proof of who the proprietor was, since everyone—including Dumbledore himself—could have tampered with the memory. On the other hand, to cover all his bases, he had also ordered Rosier to create an illusion of Marvolo so that the other Aurors would figure that Marvolo had gone back with them. He was always careful to create the best alibi.

When Lucius had told him that Draco had offered to throw Harry's birthday party at Malfoy Manor, Marvolo found himself smiling the whole day at the news. Of course, it would have posed the perfect chance to meet his Harry again. But no, of course Dumbledore needed to meddle, refusing the offer and granting a one person invitation to the party instead. Draco was forced to accept it and he came alone, since the invitation was limited only to Draco and Draco alone.

The presence of Blaise had been a miscalculation, but Marvolo had easily Obliviated the boy. Now he only needed to catch Severus and torture the man for his disobedience.

So why he was wasting time here, waiting for the boy to show himself, and now, frozen in place because of the boy's question?

He snapped out of it. He came nearer to Harry and grabbed the boy's arm. The gesture silenced Harry quickly and both of them stared at each other.

He looked down, and the emerald eyes seemed to gaze right through him. Those clear, beautiful eyes behind the lush eyelashes watched him closely. Harry's face paled, yet his pupils were dilated. Either from fear or anger or some other kind of strong emotion—Marvolo knew not, but it surely looked adorable, in a sick way. _Arousing_. Dangerous. Neither of them blinked for the moment.

"You have grown," Marvolo found himself saying out loud. Yes, Harry had grown quite a bit, although he was still petite compared to his fellow mates. Still scrawnier than what Marvolo would have liked, yet it suited Harry very much. It made him look fragile and gentle, even though Marvolo could feel Harry's powerful aura cloaking both of them. In fact, their magical auras were twirling around each other, intimately checking the other.

A bit overwhelmed by the power, Marvolo felt like he was pleasantly drunk. It was amusing, of course. Harry's power was like the best of wine. It intoxicated Marvolo so wonderfully. The boy's level of power seemed to match his really, really nicely; in fact, just about perfectly. Just like their heights. Harry had grown tall enough to reach his chest which was just the right height for Marvolo to bend down and kiss him…

Which he did, in the next moment.

* * *

><p>Harry's eyes became so big it hurt his face. He was speechless and automatically opened his mouth. But this didn't deter Marvolo. The lips touching his pushed even further, more aggressively. Harry gasped, too loudly for the moment.<p>

It was all over in the next second. Their lips were finally apart. Marvolo suddenly let him go, coughed a bit and turned.

"Come on, you need to return to your own party."

Harry let himself be tugged along as the man reached for his hand and grabbed it tightly. He walked beside the man, slowly, following the pattern of the man's footsteps. He let himself be led into the Great Hall once again, slowly but surely. Harry was silent the entire time, and he refused to look up from the floor. He appeared calm, but his mind was in chaos.

Once they were in front of the Great Hall, Marvolo politely parted with him and walked away, without entering the Great Hall. He said something about Severus, something about teaching him obedience, which Harry didn't understand and wasn't listening to closely anyway. Harry couldn't bring himself to look up towards the man, and he watched as the man's feet walked away, further and further from him.

He was unable to focus on anything after that. Even when Blaise immediately rushed to his side and asked him what had happened and where did Harry go? Harry couldn't concentrate enough to listen to whatever his best friend was saying. In his head, a voice was screaming at him, blocking out the noises of the party.

_Are you a fool?_ the voice asked. _You let him kiss you! You! The one who deserve__s__ no love! That kiss sealed it, you know? You are now supposed to love him! And what do you know about love? Nothing! You __dim-witted,__ useless freak! You deserve no love!_

The voice was suspiciously sounding very similar to his uncle's.

_Ah, you thought you deserved it? You are flattered by it? How foolish can you be? Have you forgotten your unworthiness? Why would you think a person, as great as Marvolo, would ever love you? It is all just a game! He is playing with you because it amuses him!_

No, Harry defied weakly. No. Percy told him that 'kissing' was done only between people who love each other.

_Ha! And by that definition, you love him as well? How stupid can you be? How can you love others, when this 'Harry's Box' still exists here, and is totally uncontrollable? And to suggest that he loves you! What arrogance! On what exactly are you basing this conclusion on, stupid boy!_

Harry didn't know. He didn't know anything, that's for sure.

_He wants you as his **slave**, boy. He wants you to suck him, like how you did to me…_

And Harry's Box was opened head-on, once again, filling Harry's mind completely with the memories of that traumatic day.

Harry's body curled downwards and he clutched his sides. In the next moment he started to vomit bile mixed with blood, choking on his own saliva and simultaneously experiencing a panic attack. Blaise immediately called for help and Lupin came forward, covering Harry with a blanket and ushering Harry to the infirmary. Those who had noticed what had happened started to talk amongst themselves, while some who actually knew Harry came forward and demanded to know what had happened. Lupin refused to answer any of them, already running towards the exit of the Great Hall, with Blaise trailing closely behind. Thus, the grand party ended with the birthday boy vomiting blood and being submitted to the infirmary.

* * *

><p>Severus was, at that moment, hiding from the crowd.<p>

He was never really good with crowds. He had been doing well initially, trying to mingle as normally as possible for Harry's sake. But when he saw that Harry was well occupied and that the Zabini boy was looking very protective of his charge, Snape went back into the dungeon to have a breath of fresh air.

Oh yes, the air in the dungeon was always better than in any other place.

He immersed himself in conducting the potion of luck—felix felicis—that he was intending to give to Harry as his birthday present. It was very hard and required complete concentration, and soon he was totally focused on his tasks, failing to realize that a man had silently entered his quarters.

"_Severus…."_

When the Potions Master turned back to attack, he was too late.

* * *

><p>Peter Pettigrew knew he was screwed. He'd betrayed his best friends for the Dark Lord and for power, but he had only been awarded with a sense of backlash. Now the Dark Lord and the damned Death Eaters wanted his head, and Sirius had even escaped Azkaban! How much worse could everything get? To make matters worse, his Dark Mark had started to come back to life sometime last year, and now it seemed to threaten him every time it pulsated.<p>

He'd quite enjoyed his life as a pet rat—although the Weasleys were not rich, Molly's cooking was always tasty. Now he couldn't remain in his rat form much longer—the Death Eaters and Sirius knew he was a rat Animagus. He needed to do something to save himself from this tight situation.

What could he do? What would his master want the most, what would please him the most?

_Oh._

_Oh yes._

Harry Potter.

He had betrayed James before. And now James was dead. So serving Harry Potter to his master on a silver platter would be the best solution. His master would be happy, and since he had already betrayed the Potters, surely another betrayal would not count?

_Oh yes._

He was so, so smart. Of course.

He was the rat, after all.

* * *

><p>Sorry. A lot of line breakers. a lot of separated situation. I cannot make one that captured everything from all the angles I wanted.<p>

And also, I reasoned the kiss in this chapter with this: Harry is, true, 14. and definitely find kissing irky (and hence the reaction to Percy and Penelope's kiss). but Marvolo was already seventy (at least). and the man hasn't have any attraction to anyone since... forever. So. SO. it is just fun to make Marvolo lost control of himself in the middle of drunken (from Harry's magic) moment and did the deed he did.

Hehe. Acceptable? No? Review/favourite, please!


	19. Chapter 19

Thank you for the reviews and support! This comes petty late because of many reasons, not limited but including the following:

1. my new fandom HP-Avenger (I started a story on that-hahaha)

2. The lack of response for the last chapter (and honestly it demotivate me to write this out. especially since I am not sure about the angstiness at the moment)

3. real life. I am a total lazy ass.

This is BETA ed.

Enjoy!

* * *

><p>Snape felt his body shooting signals of pain straight to his skull. He was paralysed. He was lying on the cold stone floor, blood colouring his body and his immediate surroundings. He'd realized a moment too late that he was being attacked, and he found himself slammed against the hard dungeon wall. He'd suffered a concussion. But it was just the start. He was then <em>C<em>_rucio_-ed for a full minute, and felt the excruciating pain in all his nerves, with no hope of mercifully passing out.

His assailant made sure that he wouldn't pass out from pain. In the midst of the torture, freezing water appeared out of thin air, splashing onto his face.

In front of him stood his ex-master; tall, intimidating, inducing pure fear. His ex-master was smiling, and his wand was swirling about slowly.

"You have lost your mark… What on earth did you do, Severus?"

Snape bit his tongue until it bled. He wouldn't answer, he wouldn't let the man know about Harry's ability. The man's interest in his charge was definitely unhealthy. The pain intensified; the ball-and-socket joint in his shoulder cracked and his limb was dislocated. Snape groaned, but his master's feet were suddenly on top his face, stepping hard on his jaw. He couldn't shout, and he felt his lower spine being twisted, moving accordingly to the movement of his master's wand.

"Didn't I tell you, Severus, I would find you and skin you, alive?"

"Mas…ARGH!" Snape shrieked in pain, when his cheek was peeled—revealing redder flesh and blood underneath—layer upon layer of raw epidermis.

"Ohh, so you thought you would simply get a taste of _C__rucio_? No, Severus. That spell is so crude and old. I am bored with it, frankly… How do you like my new spells? They are wonderful, wonderful spells." He looked down at his own wand. "Oh, Grindelwald was right. Muggles are resourceful in the ways of torture. Did you know that Muggles, on their own, have created such ingenious devices that cause these same effects?"

Snape couldn't answer and he wouldn't want to anyway. He had lost any hope of surviving this. Whatever Voldemort promised, he would definitely deliver. No matter what.

It was at that moment of desperation he actually wished _someone_ could save him. Which was ridiculous when one looked at Snape's own history. His mother had died when he was eleven—just in time to send him off to Hogwarts—and left him with an abusive father. When he arrived, Hogwarts wasn't as fantastic as his mother's stories had made it out to be. In there, Snape was automatically deemed a second-class Slytherin and a punching bag for the glorious Marauders. It was no surprise that Snape grew into a Death Eater, killing his own father as the mark of his initiation. He went on to indirectly kill the only woman he ever loved, and ultimately chose to follow the craziest wizards alive (both Dumbledore and Voldemort). His life was a sick joke.

And now he was wishing someone would save him.

Closing his eyes, trying to ignore the pain, he found himself fleeing the confines of his own body. He just needed to die, for Merlin's sake, and this all would be finished.

Die…

No. He had survived this long, throughout years of sadness, fear, pain, guilt, just to surrender, now?

No.

Damn it, NO.

And he nonverbally cast a Bludgeoning Charm on the Dark Lord with his last bit of remaining magic.

* * *

><p>Remus Lupin hovered over his cub protectively. Madam Pomfrey had told him that Harry was doing fine after being treated with some Calming Draught and a rather high dose of Sleeping Potion. She, however, demanded the reason as to why Harry had ended up in the Infirmary again. Since there was no apparent trauma to his person, the only reason Harry coughed out blood had to be attributed to something like a mental trauma. Or an ulcer.<p>

The nosy guests started to swarm over the infirmary. So far Madam Pomfrey was able to keep them out, but some of them actually thought that they were close enough to Harry to be given a pass as his visitors. The first of course was Blaise Zabini, the boy who'd been talking to Harry when his cub had started vomiting blood. Remus understood that Blaise had earned the right to be by Harry's hospital bed, so he shared Harry's bedside with the boy. Truly, the boy smelled trustworthy, and sincerely looked worried about Harry.

The rest were not—most of them were just the other no-name guests at the party (who were invited only because of Dumbledore's influence over the guest lists) and they were just there because the incident had piqued their interest. It was not every day that they were able to see their saviour, The Boy Who Lived, puking blood all over the floor. Of course it was bloody interesting to them. Remus wanted to smack all of them upside the head for gawking over his poor cub, but he forced himself to stay calm and silent.

He was getting more and more immersed in his worries, when suddenly he remembered that Severus should be there as well. The wizard was Harry's rightful Guardian. He should be there; where on earth could he be? And Remus felt his anger rise again.

Just Only to be shocked out of his mind when he saw said man being carried by Dumbledore into the infirmary. The Headmaster then firmly asked every single guest to immediately leave the infirmary—and the whole school in general, as the party was obviously over—while closing the curtains around Severus' bed. He ushered Pomfrey in to treat the unconscious Potions Master. Remus caught a glimpse of Severus' bloody, bruised face—it worried him. Severus' face had been badly mutilated; it seemed almost like someone had peeled off the epidermal layers of his face, one by one.

The party had become a nightmare.

* * *

><p>Harry was angry at himself now. He hated himself.<p>

He had never… well, he had, of course, always hated his existence. Ever since he could remember, people had scorned his birth and hated him. The Dursleys were the most vocal about their opinions of him: how he should have died along with his parents, how they should have just killed him when he was put on the Dursleys' doorstep. And his experience as a first year at Hogwarts hadn't been exactly helpful to his sense of self-esteem either.

The Muggle world wasn't for him—both experiences of living with the Dursleys and attending Muggle school had never proved fun for Harry. The magical world held so much more potential—but then again, many aspects of it disappointed Harry. The boy finally understood that he had no place in either of those worlds.

But he had never hated himself like this. He hated the _fact_ that he had been born at all in the first place, yes. He hated his life because of all the harshness he had to endure, yes. But he never hated himself for being that weak.

Never.

He'd always held himself back, because in his mind, everything was always his fault. He had made a habit of accepting all the bad things that occurred in his life, because he thought he deserved it all. But what if… what if he _wasn't_ wrong? What if everything was _not_ his fault? What if he didn't actually deserve it?

If that was true, then all this time, he'd been wasting his life trying to redeem himself of mistakes that weren't even his fault in the first place.

He was weak, obviously. He truly believed that everything was his fault. That's why he asked those questions; what had he done to be treated this way?—why had Marvolo abandoned him, so on and so forth.

All the self-depreciating thoughts replayed in his head. All those depressing memories. And that's why he had searched for death, because it seemed the only available solution, and the most prospective way to end all the pain and hurt.

Death seemed to promise a peaceful end to all his suffering, and a way to redeem his mistake of being born. But he'd never before thought… that his "hoping" for death was just another lie he told himself. His death wish was just a lie, a concept that allowed Harry to put his head inside a hole in the ground and pretend that he didn't know anything, didn't see anything, didn't feel anything. His death wish, in truth, was a means for him to mentally escape from reality. It was a selfish wish, born from his weak self. His weak, unable-to-fight, pretending-that-he-didn't-have-the-right-to-fight mentality.

Harry wished for death because he didn't _want_ to fight all the abuse thrown at him. Of course, because it was always easier to surrender and let everything be, right?

It left him with a feeling of learned helplessness, a perspective on life that somehow made him feel strangely better because no matter what he did, in his head he couldn't ever change anything. Or because he could pretend that somehow, he was a victim of all the evil that befell him in this world. Because, he had no one who would protect him. He was constantly comparing himself to privileged children like Dudley. By emphasizing his helplessness, he hoped that maybe an adult would someday take notice of him, and take pity on him. Of course, he was already heading in the wrong direction. Because Harry was an orphan. Nobody was going to defend him. He was helpless. He couldn't change the fact that he was helpless, simply because his parents were dead, and nobody would be there to protect him.

The helplessness. The horrible feeling of sucking his uncle's manhood.

Harry hated what he had gone through. He had had enough of it.

The things Marvolo had done to him sealed the deal. It was the final piece of proof that everybody was fucking around with him—because he was such a weak idiot, who always let people walk all over him.

Marvolo's kiss showed how the man wanted Harry's love. But Harry had nobody on this earth who loved him, and to think that Marvolo could, this easily, pressure Harry into thinking that he _needed_ to start loving him back?

Impossible. He couldn't do it. He didn't know how to; he couldn't even fathom where to begin. All his life, he had always been giving and never receiving; how he was treated was unbelievable. How much more people would demand of him until they were at long last satisfied? He had nothing left, and yet people still wanted him to give. Unbelievable.

Long-simmering anger crackled at the corners of his mind, opening up the Harry's Box one last time. Destroying it.

He always followed everybody's wishes but his own. Because he was stupid enough to think that someone, one day, would step into the proverbial shoes of his dead parents, and protect him. Because Harry thought that by intensifying the helplessness he normally exhibited, his abusers would tone down the mistreatment they rained on him.

Because wishing for death was easier than fighting for a better life.

He was weak. Damn it. Weak.

He'd had enough. Harry's Box had finally exploded. He was finally broken. Harry's Box was not just a concept for hiding his lousy memories—it had actually _enabled_ him, providing for him every reason in the world, real or exaggerated, to think of himself as a victim, so that he could keep running away from his problems.

The Box was finally broken—thus, he had two choices now: to continue being a coward and kill himself before Marvolo fully claimed him; or to fight and kill everyone in his way. To avenge himself. To make everybody who'd ever hurt him regret their deeds. To make everybody see that Harry Potter wasn't a weakling, after all. He had learned so much—it was time to apply all of what he'd learned into practice.

He was a _Slytherin_, damn it. He was cunning, shrewd, and ambitious—anything but weak. He'd had enough of being a slave to a bunch of sadistic ingrates who always tried to convince him that everything was his fault. _Nothing_ was his fault, nothing.

Nothing.

If he didn't deserve happiness, then nobody else did either because he deserved it more than everybody else in the entire world.

He no longer wished to give up anything anymore. This was his time to take.

* * *

><p>In the middle of the Forbidden Forrest, two men huddled close to the small, sputtering campfire they had made. Neither talked to the other. The first man was actually nearly legally insane (from decades of being exposed to the dementors and their agonizing influence), and the second kept silent simply because he wasn't sure whether he could trust anything coming from the other man's mouth.<p>

Yet they still stuck with each other. It was ironic, actually. They had each escaped via different means, but each had inadvertently aided the other. It had started with Dumbledore, who'd been trying to unlawfully help his most trusted Groundskeeper, Hagrid, escape from prison; the old wizard had given Hagrid a Portkey. Since the Portkey had been secretly constructed by Dumbledore himself, it was not officially registered with the Ministry, and had been enhanced with the ability to successfully deflect the Azkaban anti-Portkey wards. Such a Portkey could only have been made by such wizards as powerful and resourceful as Dumbledore, so Hagrid was given very specific instructions to never reveal the Portkey. The Portkey was also designed to self-combust after a single usage, to hide all proof of its existence.

Dumbledore specifically made sure that the Portkey would be only activated on the night that would fall two days after his last visitation to the half giant (Dumbledore also specifically visited Hagrid by himself this time—no guards, no Minister of Magic tagging along—and he'd Obliverated quite a lot of people in order to do this).

That night, Hagrid got ready, grabbing the colourful sock onto his chest and praying that everything would work. He had been lost inside his own mind for so many days. He couldn't stand to replay the memories of his father's funeral anymore, or keep seeing the look of disappointment on his father's face when his wife, Hagrid's mother, had abandoned the family.

When Hagrid was expelled from Hogwarts, the derogatory, bigoted comments he'd received from the other Wizards in regards to his size and heredity was expected, but still was painful to listen to nonetheless…Hagrid had had enough.

The Portkey was his only means to escape and Dumbledore had worked so hard to provide him with it.

Suddenly he saw a big dog; the Grimm-like, black, thin, and sickly-looking grim passed through the narrow bars of his cell. Hagrid was surprised for a moment, and his overwhelming love for all animals won over his level of common sense—he touched the dog's jaw, letting the dog sniff his scent.

And that particular moment, the Portkey was activated.

When he woke up, Hagrid found that he was sitting on top of the dog; the dog was whining in pain. Hagrid looked around and found that they were in the Forbidden Forest—a section of the Forest he'd never really ventured into, because it was part of the Centaurs' territory, but he was familiar with the basic area nonetheless. He quickly stood up, and the "dog" suddenly morphed into a human. Into a man. A wizard.

Sirius Black.

From there, the two engaged in a silent pseudo-battle of wits as well as a struggle to maintain respective sanities. Hagrid took his time trying to decide whether he could trust the almost insane Animagus. Sirius, on the other hand, was trying to explain himself and his situation as clearly as he could between the random bouts of mania that were threatening to come out and invade his clear mind. The lack of dementors in the surrounding environment helped him stay calmer than usual, but the gloomy, threatening aura of the forest made it hard for either to gain the other's trust.

Eventually, after a week of camping together (Hagrid, due to his conscience, found himself unable to harm or let go of the Animagus form of Sirius'. Suffice to say, he was completely enraptured by the Grimm-sized dog), they came to a truce. Hagrid still held the upper hand, since after all, Sirius was a weakened wizard as well as wandless—he couldn't hurt the half giant even if he wanted to. Hagrid kept to Dumbledore's instructions: to wait in the Forbidden Forest until such time that the Headmaster managed to clear his name.

Thus, while nervously anticipating the unclear future, Sirius became an unexpectedly welcome companion for Hagrid. He was quite happy as well—it had been quite a while since he'd needed to take care of another (whether creature, animal, or human, they were all the same to him) and Sirius happened to be a creature who needed his help, as well as an available participant for conversation.

Then, during their second week together, Sirius managed to finish his story, telling Hagrid the complete, unedited truth about that fateful Halloween night so many years ago. How the Potters had really died, and how Peter Pettigrew had been the main culprit.

Hagrid then decided that maybe he should have believed Sirius after that time he saw the newspaper.

* * *

><p>Something inherent had changed in Harry. Yet nobody could quite put their finger on it, and nobody voiced their opinions out loud, for they had no real proof. Ever since the boy had woken up from the birthday ordeal, the boy had been silent and polite as usual. Yet somehow, his tone had become rather cold, and his eyes didn't portray any emotions other than anger and indifference.<p>

The boy had also become even more secretive. In the time between the end of holiday and the start of the new school year, Harry was very rarely seen in the school compounds. Of course, there was no way he could _not_ be on Hogwarts grounds, yet Remus and the other professors never saw him anywhere. Remus managed to catch the boy once when Harry was exiting the washroom, and had angrily chided him, explaining that he expected Harry to be present in the Great Hall at least for meals. The boy had nodded mechanically in response, and from then on, the boy was at least spotted regularly in the Great Hall, but whether he was dutifully eating was another matter altogether.

It was then that Remus finally realized that the boy had, in some ways, truly changed—and the first thing he noticed was the missing lightning-bolt shaped scar from his forehead. For a long time nobody else realized the lack of the infamous scar—for Harry unfortunately sported numerous other scars along all sides of his body, not to mention the long bangs of his hair covered his forehead anyway—but now that Remus took further note and observed more closely, he was certain that the scar was gone. As though it had never existed in the first place.

At this discovery, Remus was beside himself with worry—he couldn't find another person to confide in either, since Severus was still recuperating. Apparently the Dark Lord had somehow infiltrated Hogwarts on Harry's birthday and had viciously attacked Severus. His intention had clearly been to kill; and Dumbledore had also told the Order that Voldemort was back. The Dark Lord himself came into Hogwarts in order to punish Severus, to extract personal revenge for the Potion Master's betrayal. Severus had not woken up since, and now, the new semester was about to begin. In desperation, Albus managed to bring in old professor Horace Slughorn to fill in for Severus's teaching duties for that particular year, until Severus could be back on his feet. Severus was then kept in intensive care, in the most private chamber in the infirmary, so that Madam Pomfrey had 24/7 access to the comatose patient.

The semester started normally enough. There was a slight issue with the dementors terrorizing the Hogwarts Express; but Remus had been chaperoning the train with Flitwick, and between the two professors, they managed to protect all the students. The traditional Great Feast was held without incident (again, just as usual), officially starting the semester off.

At the Slytherin table, however, there was a great deal of excited, happy commotion, particularly in the case of the pureblood only children. These students looked like they were celebrating a massively happy event. They were aware, of course, that their parents' almighty Lord had returned. Yet, this wasn't the whole story. The more surprising, important news was the sudden dramatic increase in the number of pregnancies in the pureblood families. It seemed that _fifty_ students had already confirmed that they would be expecting a younger sibling by the end of next year; and some others were still anticipating similarly good news. Some of the purebloods in Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff Houses were celebrating in a similar fashion, having experienced the same joyous news; however, Gryffindor House was not included in the celebration at all. The Gryffindors were more focused on chatting about how the dementors had terrorised the Hogwarts Express on their way to the school.

The third-year Slytherins couldn't help but note the lack of "Harry-puppy" behaviour throughout the feast. They asked him about his well-being, and how his holidays had gone past his birthday party. Harry answered them all curtly, yet very politely, giving detached, generalized answers. Blaise particularly felt the coldness and detachment radiating from Harry. He asked the boy several times what had happened, which Harry answered each time with his usual, simple "I am fine, thank you" speech.

By the end of the Feast, every student had gone back to their dormitory in groups. While Harry was following his fellow Slytherins, he suddenly bumped into the boy directly in front of him. They were being blocked in the middle of a deserted corridor by a group of Gryffindors—headed by one Ronald Weasley. The air grew tense, signalling the beginning of another typical brawl between the gangs of Slytherin and Gryffindor.

"Potter, what is your problem?" the red headed boy asked.

Draco was annoyed. He just wanted to head into his dorm and indulge in his usual hot bath and beauty routine. The Gryffindors were only ruining an already bad day. "Move out of the way, Weasel. What is your problem anyway, picking a fight this early in the semester? Truly the epitome of a crude-mannered Gryffindor, you are."

"Shut up, Malfoy," Dean Thomas snapped, and it this was both complimented and returned by death stares from either side. Blaise was standing over Harry protectively, but the black-haired boy suddenly moved forward, standing right in front of Ron.

"Wh..What?" the red head demanded, blushing to the roots of his ginger hair.

"May you be so kind as to clarify with me what exactly it is meant by 'what is your problem, Potter?' ?" Harry asked, tilting his head innocently.

"Do…Don't feign innocence! The dementors are here because of _you_! It is your fault that my little sister was almost attacked!"

Harry raised his eyebrows regally. Malfoy silently approved.

"What do you mean? After my first year, I have never again taken the Express to Hogwarts, since."

"Yeah, but it is because of that escaped convict—your Death Eater of a godfather—that the dementors are here! You should move someplace else, and leave everybody else alone so we can live in peace again!"

Blaise glared hard at the red head. He knew that Gryffindors were stereotypically idiotic in their brashness, but the words coming out of Ron's mouth were truly reckless and insulting. Especially when it was not even Harry's fault at all that the dementors were here—any fool could determine it was all Sirius Black's fault! And for the record, he knew that Black had been a Gryffindor to boot!

The African Italian boy was ready to fire a retort and protect Harry from the redheaded bully, but he was surprised when the usually silent and meek boy suddenly laughed. He was definitely not the only one who was shocked—all of the third years present were looking wide-eyed at Harry, as though he had lost his mind.

"That is very… very _entertaining_, Weasley. So, what you're saying is… it is my fault that the dementors are here? Isn't that just… too ridiculous to be true?"

Ron's face became even redder, almost purple, this time attributing from his rising temper. Harry smiled innocently, but his eyes were blazing with rage.

" By that logic, why don't you blame me for you being born as a red head, Weasley. Well, alright. Blame me all you like. But then, you'd have to admit that I have the right to blame you for everything that's shitty in my life as well. I can blame you for the mistake I made on the Potions test last semester, because I was distracted by you blowing up that pitiful cauldron of yours. I blame you for my itching hand, because that dirty pet rat of yours spreads diseases. I blame you for my choking on the candy your family gave me for my birthday. I blame you for the death of my parents because you never helped them. I blame you for the sun rising in the east because you never try to change its course. And now, how would you like to pay me back, for all the troubles you caused?"

"That! That is preposterous!" Ron blubbered, attempting to himself together. He understood what Harry was instigating. Behind him, the Gryffindors were seething, knowing that they had made a wrong move. Which was very unusual, especially since the attack was apparently coming from the easy-to-bully Potter.

The Slytherins, on the other hand, were surprised at Harry's reaction. Coming from him, this was very, very unusual. And so very _Slytherin_. They couldn't have done it better.

Ron was spluttering, but since he wasn't really good at formulating words when he was angry, he raised his hand to hit Harry instead.

Three things happened simultaneously: the Gryffindors collectively gasped, the Slytherins readied their wands, and Harry snapped his fingers.

It seemed that Harry still remembered how to do his wandless hexes perfectly.

Ron Weasley dropped onto the floor, moaning and shaking. His hand (the one he'd raised to do damage) was bent at an unnatural angle. His friends gasped in horror, some attempting to help him up. They started shouting foul and blaming Harry, while the Slytherins looked amongst each other. Harry, on the other hand, smiled gently.

"I didn't do anything. You have no proof."

"We all saw it! You did this!" Seamus Finnegan shouted.

"Eh? Really? Let me ask my fellow Slytherins—did you all see what happened? Do you think I hurt Weasley's hand?"

The Slytherins were stunned, but Draco recollected his wits the fastest and shook his head. "No, never crossed my mind never. You didn't do anything, Potter. You are innocent. Him, on the other hand—" Draco pointed at Ron, "—he was clearly ready to inflict violence on you. Such abhorrent, uncouth behaviour."

Behind him, the Slytherins chuckled and nodded in unison. House unity being displayed at its best.

"Liar! You Snakes!" Several of the Gryffindors thundered. "We'll drag his ass to the Professors' office! We'll bring this to Dumbledore's attention!"

"And what exactly do you think they would do?" Harry asked, tilting his head to the side. "Think about it: you say that I am responsible for Ron's wounds. Draco says I am in no way responsible. Two sides, with two completely different claims. So the only thing the teachers will be able to do is check our wands. And, since my wand is still inside my robe. Even if they cast _priori incantatem_, it will only show a refreshing charm that I used on myself this afternoon. They will see the truth—that Weasley was not careful enough, and broke his own wrist tonight. Now, what exactly were you going to do, again?"

Silence filled the corridor. Harry sighed and turned around, showing his back.

Ron Weasley, between his moans, suddenly hissed out, "If I were you, Potter, I would find Black myself! He was the one who betrayed your family and killed them!"

Harry blinked. He wasn't sure what the boy was getting at. Nobody else had said anything about Black to him, except that he was an escaped Death Eater and was very dangerous. He should look more up on the subject afterwards.

"Let's go." He shrugged and walked towards Blaise, tugging the other boy's arm. The Slytherins nodded to each other and they continued walking, while the Gryffindors helped their own to the infirmary.

* * *

><p>Harry's unusual behaviour made the other Slytherins watch their tongues around Harry.<p>

"…What?" Harry asked around the silent room, but all the boys stopped doing whatever they were doing and turned to him.

"Since when have you become the epitome of Salazar Slytherin himself, Potter?" Draco asked.

Harry looked away and changed into his sleeping gown. When the other boys thought that he wouldn't answer the question and went back to their respective activities, suddenly Harry spoke out, "I can't stay defenceless forever. And I _am_ a Slytherin. Am I wrong for wanting to be one of you?"

The sad, puppy-like eyes watched every other boy in the room. Harry's lips turned pouty and his eyes glassy. It made Harry looked absolutely innocent, defenceless and adorable; he was once again embracing the usual Harry-puppy look. The look that made Harry so irresistible. This time though, an alarm bell seemed to ring in Blaise's head, warning him that Harry was actually actively manipulating his looks to affect the boys in their dorm.

Blaise noticed that Malfoy was the only one who wasn't blushing over the adorable Harry-puppy look. Instead, the blond looked emotionally removed; almost calculating. But to be honest, Blaise didn't really care. He was quite happy that now Harry had learned to stand for himself. Although, at the rate of whatever Harry was trying to change about himself, Blaise sensed that the boy would eventually lose his mind and natural sense of self. It worried him as well. From where had Harry suddenly learned to manipulate his expression like that? Had it always been like that, though—had he been in control of it the whole time he'd known Harry?

No, Blaise was sure that until now, Harry had been as innocent as a newborn puppy. Maybe the real question was, why had Harry started to become so manipulative—his previous response to Weasley's usual idiotic accusation was very weird and out-of-character, indeed. So what was making Harry turn into a Slytherin? And to think Harry used to be the only innocent Slytherin in the House, perhaps in the entire history of the House's existence. Blaise shook his head quickly and watched as Harry hid himself under his blanket. And he followed the act, snuggling into his bed as well.

The image of Harry vomiting blood was still rather fresh in his mind.

What had happened that day? This time, it had been no ordinary panic attack. What did he miss? Blaise frowned. He knew he'd missed something very important. But deciphering the event was like searching for a needle in a haystack. What? Why? Who was responsible for everything?

In the meantime, most of the boys were already under their blankets, and soon the soft snores coming from Goyle's bed could be heard. It was lucky that Ron Weasley, the youngest Weasley son, was not in Slytherin, for Blaise had heard that the boy snored at decibel levels akin to those of the running engines of the Hogwarts Express. And he stared at the bed beside him, at the unruly mop of hair that was barely visible from the edge of the blanket, he decided.

Slytherins were notorious in the Wizarding world for their particular brand of politics. If the Boy-Who-Lived suddenly became the epitome of Slytherin House, the other House members would just follow along for the ride and exploit him for their own personal gains. As a true Slytherin, Blaise knew exactly what to do to get ahead in this world. To back Harry up as long as he didn't ruin the reputation of the Slytherin House. But as a friend (and a potential love interest—not that Blaise would admit _that_ out loud, though) he was very worried about the boy. Harry had always worried him—it used to stem from Harry's general attitude of not caring about himself, but now it stemmed from the sudden coldness and level of detachment the boy was showing.

Maybe the boy was really hiding himself, protecting himself behind all these cold charades? It was plausible, after all, since he'd obviously been through enough trauma to suddenly vomit blood out of nowhere.

And what should Blaise do in the meantime?

Blaise closed his eyes. He decided it would be best to support the boy as usual and, at some point, have a talk with their new Head of House—Professor Slughorn. He would be the best person to turn to about this. Especially with Professor Snape not being available.

* * *

><p>They were attending Herbology class. Since it was the beginning of a new school year, Professor Sprout thought that it would be a great idea to employ a new rule of making the students partner up with others from different Houses. She then proceeded to pair them up—to the displeasure of both the Gryffindors and Slytherins.<p>

Malfoy and Weasley were paired up together—and as soon as this occurred, their classmates knew they would be in for a year from hell. Blaise ended up being paired with the Granger girl. The boy looked displeased, so very much, especially when, seemingly out of nowhere, the girl started to lecture him on how to listen to authority. The fact that Granger was a Muggle-born didn't settle well with Blaise either.

Harry, on the other hand, was paired with the silent, chubby, clumsy Gryffindor, Neville Longbottom. Harry was perfectly satisfied and content with this decision. He knew the other boy was very good at Herbology and that he wouldn't complain. Usually it was Weasley who used Longbottom for his own advantage (i.e. pressuring him into doing all the practical work for each assignment, since Neville was very good at handling the actual plants). And they started their coursework.

The glass house became actually quite silent—everybody was feeling uncomfortable (understatement of the month) around their new partners. But soon some light chatter started up, and several of the less volatile couples (including Goyle / Seamus Finnigan, and Crabbe / Dean Thomas) started to talk (or grunt) with each other. Only the Malfoy-Weasley pair actually got into a real fight, using their scissors of all things; both were threatening bodily harm to the each other with their pairs of scissors, as well as with the awfully smelly packs of dragon dung.

Harry turned to watch how Neville worked his magic. He might as well learn by copying whatever the Longbottom boy did. The boy was marvellous, almost a genius, when it came to handling plants. He was a natural, Harry could see. Harry was somewhat a natural at Herbology as well, from all the gardening work he'd done for the Dursleys—he scowled at the memory.

"Are you ok?" Suddenly the other boy, Neville, asked him.

Harry smiled. "I am sorry. I just remembered something unpleasant."

"Oh. Good then, I thought it was something I did." The chubby boy shrugged and continued scooping the soil.

"Longbottom, you are very good with your plants," Harry spoke out.

Neville blushed. "Th..Thanks."

"I am just telling you the truth." Harry shrugged. "You are really good. Your family must be proud of you."

Neville looked grey when Harry said this. The green eyed boy noticed the change of colour in the other boy's face, so he apologized.

"I am sorry if I said something wrong," Harry whispered.

Neville shook his head. "No, it wasn't what you said. You don't need to apologize."

"Then… what happened?"

"I am born in the House of Longbottom, one of the oldest families in the Britain Wizarding world. My grandparents and parents were great and renowned for their magic. But for my whole life, I was deemed almost a Squib. Sometimes genetic and magical distribution isn't really fair, you know. Gran pushed me a lot when I was a kid, in the hopes that I would develop any kind of magical talent. And she was quite happy when she found that I was excellent with cultivating magical plants. Well, as long as I wasn't a Squib, she could accept me. Honestly I thought I was one, until one day my uncle finally threw me from a twenty-story tower, observing whether my magic would help me survive. And funnily enough, I wasn't hurt at all—I actually bounced like a ball when I hit the ground! Gran was so happy when she confirmed that I have _some_ magic in me."

Harry stared at the boy who'd previously been working silently beside him. Neville told his story as though he were announcing today's weather, and he chuckled when he was finished. But Harry was able to read the boy's aura and no, he wasn't as weak as he'd made himself out to be. And no, Neville had never found his own situation funny.

So, Harry asked, "Why are you laughing?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Why are you laughing? Your aura tells me that you don't actually want to laugh."

Neville was surprised for a moment before turning his head back towards the plants in front of them. He didn't answer Harry's question, or make any gestures that indicated he'd heard it. And Harry somehow understood what the boy needed. Some time to himself to contemplate and reflect. Harry himself experienced those times now and then, and he respected the other boy enough to let him have what he wanted.

They continued doing their assignments in silence; and together they became the most productive pair of students in the entire Herbology class.

* * *

><p>The month passed quickly. The classes had already started shoving more and more assignments down their collective throats. Harry had chosen Ancient Runes and Care for Magical Creatures for his electives. The first class he'd chosen, because he needed to take Runes in order to understand some of the magical incantations from his family's tomes, as well as some spells inside the Room of Requirement. He selected Care of Magical Creatures because Harry knew he loved animals more than he loved humans. After all, he had never been hurt or betrayed by an animal; animals had no ulterior motives. And they seemed to like him enough. Like Hedwig, his very first friend.<p>

Harry went to the infirmary every weekend since the start of school. He would stay the night there, watching as Professor Snape's chest went up and down slowly. The professor hasn't woken up yet, and sometimes he would find Professor Lupin already waiting for him in the private infirmary room. Then the two would start talking about anything—Harry's parents, animagus, dementors—while waiting in vigil beside the comatose professor.

This time, Harry was told that he could do nothing to help as the Professor was suffering from physical injury, not a magical one. Harry was also told that the Dark Lord was the one who tortured his guardian. And he started to feel angry at the Dark Lord. If only he never existed, then Harry's parents wouldn't have died and Harry wouldn't be abused. And Professor Snape wouldn't be hurt like that. He didn't know that he was actually cultivating anger towards his once-saviour, Marvolo.

Suddenly the Hogsmeade weekend came. Harry managed to get his form signed by Professor Lupin—who became his temporary guardian and who believed that Sirius Black wasn't a threat to Harry in Hogsmeade. Harry was looking forward to the weekend, even though he had been there before when Professor Snape bought him some stuff. He was eager to get something for his comatose guardian, and also to check out the bookshop. He already finished his current Rune textbook and needed to get the next. The basic Rune textbook was insufficient for Harry to understand most of the rituals inside the Necromancy tomes in the Room of Requirement.

Thus, he queued with Blaise that morning in the line for Filch to make sure they had their permission slips signed. When it was their turn, Blaise and Harry gave theirs to the caretaker, and the rude man grimaced before signing that both boys could pass. It was then something weird happened.

Blaise passed through the gate, but Harry didn't—instead he was thrown back to Hogwarts' lawn. It was quite a huge impact, Harry was thrown at least three feet back.

People started to murmur when they saw that, and Harry blushed. He cursed himself and his luck, so he tried again.

He still couldn't.

"Move aside, Potter! You are blocking the line!" Filch sneered and let the next students came forward. Harry gathered himself and saw Blaise frowned.

"I'll bring you something then." Blaise shouted and waved. Harry nodded and went back to the castle. Bloody hell, what was that? Not only was he embarrassed, Harry was also angry. He couldn't pass the gate. It was clear he was the only one. Harry wanted to bite the head off of the person who did that to him. It was not funny at all! And to think that he has already made a careful list of what he wanted to do in Hogsmeade…

"Ssst!" Suddenly his arm was grabbed by someone in line. Harry turned to see the Weasley twins looked at him. One of the twin signed for Harry to keep quiet and together they slipped out, walking back to the castle.

"Well, well, Harry, this is your lucky day." One of the twins started.

"We are your guardian angel, you see." The other one continued.

"It was of course very weird that you cannot pass the gate…"

"But you are lucky we can help you with that."

Harry looked suspiciously at them. "Was that you who did it?"

The twins looked horrified. "No, of course not! Why would we want to hurt our puppy brother? No!"

Harry bit his lips. "Then… what did you say about helping me?"

The twins smirked. "We need to introduce you to Misters Prongs, Padfoot, Moony and Wormtail."

Harry was enjoying himself immensely. The Honeydukes have a lot of chocolate bars that he couldn't resists. He needed to remind himself that he owed the twins as well as Professor Snape some chocolates and he needed to ration his pocket money if he wanted to buy the Rune book.

It was amazing parchment-turned-map the twins lent him that allowed Harry to be able to sneak out the castle. Technically he has the permission, so he wasn't breaking the rules. So he continued staring at the Cockroach Clusters, wondering whether the twins would like it or not.

"Potter, don't tell me you want to eat those." Suddenly a voice he knew too well greeted him from the back. Harry turned to see Malfoy smirking at him. Behind the blond boy were the usual groups: Pansy, Crabbe and Goyle.

"Malfoy." Harry greeted. "No, this is for some friends."

"I hope you don't buy it for us, Potter. I am partial to the chocolate bar myself." Pansy smiled as she watched the Cluster moving around each other. "Disgusting creatures, these are."

"Potter, I need to talk to you." Malfoy smiled, "Can we talk outside?"

Harry nodded and they left the shop—and immediately Harry regretted the decision. It was very cold winter, and the wind made the cold even more unbearable.

"Can't we talk inside somewhere?" Harry asked, gathering his coats closer to him. The other members of Malfoy's group were already walking faster to the direction of Three Broomstick. Harry was ready to follow them, but Malfoy caught his arm.

Malfoy smirked. "I can make you warm. I am sure it would warm there."

"Where?" Harry asked, but he immediately caught (with his seeker reflex) the thing Malfoy dropped on his hands. He heard Malfoy called "Portus".

And instantly he felt tugged like the usual magical transportation.

He fell down hard, onto the ground. Harry groaned to find himself on wooden floored room, heat permeating from the fireplace behind him. There were many bookshelves filled with magical tomes (and Harry was dead sure the books were about Dark Magic, judging from the auras). And Harry sensed there was somebody else in the room.

A man was seated on the master chair behind the mahogany desk.

"Oh, welcome to my home, Harry." The voice was so full of warmth and longing.

Harry looked up to see Marvolo in front of him.

* * *

><p>Comment? Hey, notice the new reviewing box below? I thought it is cool, but honestly I dont like the new favealert system. They are not as convenient as the old comment window.


	20. Chapter 20

Sorry for the long wait. this chapter is my longest, and I hope it satisfy you.

On another note, this story is officially my longest (not only it is more than 20 chapters, each chapter also have at least 5000 words) and so, I am thankful for people who stayed and read this. This is a huge effort (as some of you may know, I am super lazy ass and have the tendency to give up before finishing something till the end).

Unbeta-ed.

Reason why Harry suddenly change: It will be explained below in the story, but also, HORMONE. Hormonal imbalance in teenagers, especially with background such as Harry's, may be very explosive. Oh, also, I made a one shot (for Krysania) epilogue of pure smut between Marvolo and Harry. It is titled the Difference in Preference. If you want to taste my smut, that is my style. Hope you like this.

Enjoy!

* * *

><p>Marvolo pushed aside his chair and walked towards the child. Previously, he had not been pinning too much hope on Lucius successfully delivering Harry to him, and so he truthfully hadn't been all that prepared to receive Harry. He had given Malfoy the special Portkey some time ago, before even Harry's birthday, and had honestly forgotten about it. And apparently Lucius had used his own son as the means to bring Harry to him. Quite a smart move. Marvolo had been wrong to place such low expectations in the skills of the heir apparent of the Malfoy family. Yet, the small brat had showed some degree of competency today by successfully transferring Harry into his Manor.<p>

His manor was the aptly named Riddle Manor. Ironic as it may seem, it had always served as his primary base. Of course he had another official address, but this manor was his base for his most important operations, and his life's work. He had used a powerful Fidelius charm to protect it, and only those bearing his specialized Portkeys, or the Dark Mark, were able to bypass this ward. And ever since the Riddle family name had been tarnished, the family had virtually fallen off the face of the earth, away from all aspects of society; Tom had taken full advantage of this discretion. By now, nobody would ever remember that there was once a wealthy blue-blooded family living in that area of the country, let alone their actual Manor. It was a very useful place to recuperate from the travails of his ongoing campaign, especially after that last duel with Dumbledore.

Marvolo had been in the middle of torturing his lovely, lovely (traitorous) Potions Master when suddenly Snape had hit him full-force with that bludgeoning hex. Taken off guard, Marvolo had been hit right on his chest; a critical blow that would normally have killed other wizards, but not him. And he proved to have the worst timing, as the nosy Headmaster had then burst into the room and attacked him in his blind spot. The silent Reducto charm had gashed him horrifically on his back. The serious wounds prevented him from fighting Dumbledore at his optimal level. Thus, he'd retreated before he could kill Snape. He'd managed to get into the Chamber of Secrets, and had Disapparated from there.

His spies in Hogwarts eventually relayed him their reports. Apparently Snape was being kept in the infirmary, in a special room that was being protected by tight security wards similar to those surrounding the Headmaster's office. Marvolo was forced to reconsider moving Snape's ultimate extermination to another time. And it seemed that the Potions Master hadn't even woken up as yet, so nothing in this case was exactly urgent. He had other, more pressing matters to attend to.

With the help of Lucius, he had succeeded in exerting nearly complete control over the Ministry. Most of the Winzengamot (in fact, approximately 66% of the members) had already become his devoted followers, or at least under his payroll. Ever since the runaway success of his effective, potent, Slytherin-targeted fertility elixir, more and more pureblood families had come begging him for it.

Furthermore, the research he had designated for his followers to conduct, which explored the combination of working Muggle knowledge and magic-based principles, had proven quite promising, particularly when one of his more intelligent followers came up with the first prototype of a magical gun (he'd created it using some sort of magic propeller combined with a Muggle's pistol). It worked via supplying one's magical power into the barrel of the gun; instead of bullets, pure increments of energy would be shot from the muzzle at much higher force, intensity, and velocity. However, there was one limitation. Every time the gun was fired, only one spell could be utilized. Marvolo was quite satisfied with the development, however. At least now he was one technological step ahead, compared to the Ministry's Aurors as well as Dumbledore. Heh. Dumbledore.

Thinking about Dumbledore always made Marvolo annoyed.

The main obstacle in his way of total dictatorship was those faithful followers of Dumbledore's, and some politically neutral parties. Marvolo knew the politically 'neutral' were truthfully made up of true opportunists who simply waited around for the best options to materialize, so he wasn't overly concerned about them. But the increasing strength and numbers of Dumbledore's party was becoming a thorn in his side; although they were not currently great in number, they were very famous as being symbolic of the 'Light' side of magic, which of course would gather more support from the Wizarding World (although Marvolo doubted the strength of most of the population's collective intellect). Compared to his followers, his party had garnered the label as those who served the 'Dark' side of magic. So far though, he had the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, eating from the palm of his hand, via Lucius's doing. But that might very well change very soon, especially with next year's oncoming election.

At first Marvolo had been thinking of running for the position of Minister, but that meant too many public exposures, too much open invitation for critics to come attack him, and no allowance for political mistakes. So instead, he planned to have Lucius run for Minister—he knew he could control that man. However, at some point, he started to realize that he had overlooked the ambition of one previously useless Cornelius Fudge.

The man was a weak wizard, but he made up for this by being a greedy and ambitious politician. He had already been showing signs of trying to regain the authority of his position as the Minister. He refused, over and over, to surrender it to Lucius, even though he knew that most of the money in his back pocket was being 'donated' by Lucius. It seemed that the puppet was getting a bit of backbone and was rebelling. Marvolo suspected that Cornelius would create a distraction, great enough to postpone the election, so that he could gather more public support.

Marvolo did not have the time to think about the upcoming election at the moment. He was neck-deep in dealing with the affairs of the current (incompetent) Department of Magical Reinforcement. When he had initially become the Head, he figured that by allowing the Aurors to become disorganized and weak, the easier it would be for him to take over the Ministry. Within mere weeks, an absurd amount of incompetency, tardiness, and lack of discipline was evident within the Department.

However, now, upon having realized the importance of making sure Lucius would be elected Minister in the following year, he decided that a better, more competent Auror department was required in order to back the Ministry up (although, it would still have to be less powerful than his own Death Eater army). So it seemed as though his plans had now backfired onto his own arse, and Marvolo now needed to make over and improve the Department. However, at the same time, he needed to refrain from handing over too much power to the Aurors. It was a delicate, stressful, and complicated job. Most of the current Aurors were incompetent wizards and witches who were severely lacking in either skills or courage, or both. It embarrassed him to see how poorly they trained and fared with each other. There were some exceptions of course, like Mad-Eye Moody, and his group's subordinates, but they were at Dumbledore's beck and call.

Furthermore, there was another advantage in store for Marvolo, if he managed to successfully take control of the Ministry. The research being conducted by his followers on Muggle weaponry and magic was so far promising, but the developments weren't coming fast enough. If Marvolo could implement his particular brand of research into the workings of the Ministry's Unspeakable Department and the Department of Magical Research, the added people and resources would surely greatly improve the progress of his inventions. And so, conquering the Ministry seemed to be a good idea, but also, at the same time, a lot of hard work.

Thanks to his overwhelming workload, Marvolo hadn't been able to loosen up at all in the last month. So, Marvolo was currently incredibly happy. Harry had come out in front of his fireplace, like some early Yuletide offering. Something about Harry's presence always relaxed him. All the hassles and problems coming from his stupid Death Eaters, Dumbledore, the idiot politicians and incompetent subordinates, were gone; Disapparated in a flash. All that mattered now was that he had Harry with him, away from Hogwarts, away from Dumbledore.

He was the Dark Lord, after all. Whenever he found he disliked something, the emotion eventually turned into pure hatred. Contra wise, whenever he took a fancy to something, the mild interest quickly evolved into obsession. And Harry had been his main obsession ever since he'd first heard the infamous prophecy. The obsession had only grown worse and more out-of-control after he'd met the Boy-Who-Wished-to-Die during Harry's first year.

Yet Marvolo hadn't realized that he was, in truth, glorifying the memory of his submissive, innocent Harry. In Marvolo's mind, Harry was still the powerful yet sweet boy he needed to protect. He'd failed to recognize that Harry was developing into a teenager, and with so much childhood abuse, developmental hormones and mental issues in his wake, Harry was bound to develop into an angry, raging, and awful tempered teenager. Marvolo had failed to take into account any changes in Harry's personality after he (and Tom) had stopped being the support for Harry's weak mentality.

So, when he saw Harry's facial expression, any positive feelings he'd had for Harry's existence were suspended momentarily, poised to shatter. It was displaced by a certain amount of disbelief and—doubt.

The boy in front of him wasn't the Harry from his memories. He couldn't be!

The boy was looking at him with the eyes of a small, cornered animal. His big green eyes were darting from Marvolo's face, towards his surroundings, and back again, clearly looking for a way out. And the boy was pale, limbs shaking; but poised and ready to run. It seemed that the boy was too used to being cornered. And that reminded Marvolo of what he'd once seen in Harry's relatives' minds; they were filthy and horrible memories.

So Marvolo took a step back.

"Harry… Calm down. I won't hurt you."

The boy swallowed and stared back into Marvolo's eyes. "Why… Why am I here?"

"You are here because I want you to be here. Don't you want to be with me?"

The boy looked away and suddenly his body dropped and bent, so that he was kneeling on the floor. Marvolo's jaw dropped in surprise, before he paled. The child started to vomit, mostly water and foul liquids; but also some amount of blood.

"Harry!" The Dark Lord quickly gathered the child into his arms, but Harry smacked him away, leaving Marvolo frozen.

"Why did you kiss me?" the boy whispered. "What do you want from me?"

What sort of answer could one rightfully give, when one was being interrogated with this kind of question?

"Why am I here? What… do you want?" Harry asked again, looking up and this time, he sounded so cold. Marvolo didn't even want to believe the child could say something in such an icy tone. "Do you want me to _suck you_ as well?"

And then the memory he'd once seen inside the pig-Muggle's head, came into his mind. Yes, that bastard had forced his Harry to submit to his perverted inclinations. He growled.

"No. That couldn't be further away from my intentions when I… I did that. Have I ever lied to you?"

Harry clutched his knees tighter towards his body, and he didn't reply. Instead, he stared distrustfully at Marvolo, and the intensity of his stare spoke volumes of distrust towards the older man. "... Then what do you want from me? Tell me now. I don't want to play your games anymore."

"What 'games?'" Marvolo was at a loss. He remembered when they had previously met in the Room of Requirement, Harry had mentioned something about 'playing games,' about how he had toyed with the boy's emotions. He wasn't sure what Harry had been getting at, and Marvolo hated to be unsure about anything. He walked over to the boy and grabbed his arm, pulling upwards, forcing Harry to stand up. The boy looked away from him, and it annoyed Marvolo. He hissed in Parseltongue.

"_Look at me."_

But Harry didn't obey. Instead he whispered back, "I am not a Parseltongue anymore. Didn't you know that? Isn't that why you left me?"

He had forgotten. Marvolo swallowed hard and reached out, seizing Harry's chin. He tilted the boy's face. Those green eyes had nothing in them but cold anger and fear. It was such a shock, coming from the usually innocent and lovely boy. He pulled the boy close.

"What changed you?" Marvolo whispered, burying his face into Harry's hair. The scent he'd missed so. "Why are you so angry?"

Harry's answer was so soft that Marvolo almost missed it. "_You_. You and your games made me realize how foolish I was being. How desperate I have been. To ever trust you. To ever depend on you."

Marvolo shook his head and moved his head away, so he could face Harry closely. "Look at me, Child. I don't understand what you mean. I don't play games. I won't hurt you. You are _mine_."

Harry jerked at the sentence. Every inch of his body was screaming in anger and rage. And the boy started shouting. "Liar! I know you think I am just a source of amusement. But I don't need you, if all you'll ever do is leave me again and again. You lied about everything. You promised me death, but you left after you had the Stone. I know you were really Tom, and you left afterwards without even saying what I did to deserve it. Now, you expect me to forget about all this and suck you. You hurt me. You are a liar, just like all those other adults!"

As much as he loved the boy, the lack of respect insulted the Dark Lord down to the core. Yet Marvolo tried to keep his temper at bay. "… Do not think that you know everything, boy. If this were all a game to me, then what would you possibly consider as my end goal?... I did what I did for reasons that you don't understand. Stop this insolent behaviour. I may favour you, but you are trying my patience."

Harry laughed. "What? You want to kill me? Then good! Finally you can accomplish what you promised me in the first place! I won't trust your lying mouth anymore! Or you can tell me what you want me to do now, and I'll suck you, or fuck you— I'll do it. You don't need to promise anything to me anymore. I have other things to worry about without you trying to mess me up again and again. I am not, will never be _yours_."

Marvolo was stunned. The boy had just yelled in his face. He was the Dark Lord, and it had been eons since anyone had talked to him like that and had lived to see the next day. In his annoyance, he unconsciously conjured up his magic.

"_Crucio_."

* * *

><p>The sudden burst of sensation from every single nerve of his body shocked Harry. It felt like being kicked, whipped, punched and tortured by Dudley and his uncle and aunt all at the same time. Harry was no stranger to pain, but now all he could think of was how to stop the pain. Unfortunately, his magical core reacted with the pain. Instead of lessening the agony, Harry's magic actually enhanced the effect.<p>

He begged for the pain to stop. Usually he endured everything in silence, but this time he couldn't. Conversely, he wanted to scream, but he couldn't. He experienced a bout of déjà-vu; several years ago, his uncle, enraged with his nephew's perceived freakishness, had kept beating Harry over and over before finally deeming that Harry had learned 'enough'. And during that episode, although Harry had wanted to scream for mercy, he had known better than to voice it out because whenever he screamed, the pain came even harder and faster.

_Stop thinking. Stop. If you retain consciousness, you'll feel pain. Uncle Vernon wouldn't stop hitting you either. Just stop thinking and the pain will cease. Stop thinking. Just let yourself be._

He would die. If this continued, he would surely die.

And although dying so sounded so good, the images of Professor Snape, Blaise, Professor Lupin and the house elves suddenly passed through his mind. If he died, he couldn't meet them anymore. He didn't want that. He still hadn't thanked Professor Snape for throwing him a birthday party, he hadn't finished his Animagus lesson with Professor Lupin, and he had promised Blaise that he would meet him inside the castle, waiting until his best friend was back from Hogsmeade. He wanted to be inside the Hogwarts kitchen again, to help the house elves cook.

Before, he had wanted to die, for he'd had nothing to look forward to in his young life—the future was bleak and meaningless to him. And he was the 'bad guy' all the time, anyway—he had felt he deserved to die. But recently, he had come to a new resolution—that he didn't want to run away from reality anymore. He needed to fight back.

And in that moment of desperation, Harry wandlessly cast one of the spells he'd learned from studying Necromancy.

He wasn't sure what happened next, but the pain did stop, and Marvolo was blasted all the way to the other corner of the room. Harry fell onto the floor, his small body shaking and his mouth wide open, unable to regain control over anything in his body. He couldn't even breathe properly.

"…You…You dare?"

Harry heard an enraged voice calling from the other corner of the room.

He knew he was in trouble.

The desperation he felt warped his mind. All his newly found courage and anger were gone in a snap. He regressed back to being the mere 'Boy' who was aware that he was in trouble. _More_ trouble. He was being punished for being a freak—that was where all that pain had come from—for letting his freakishness cause harm to his uncle. He'd blasted his uncle. Oh, his uncle would be so mad. His uncle was coming towards him and promising more pain than before. Harry knew he could stand it but he didn't want more pain. He didn't want to be touched anymore. His uncle was scary. The scariest sight in the universe.

He was going to die.

And so, despite his shaky limbs and unstable gait, Harry got up and ran.

Ran away from his uncle. From the anger. From the madness. He didn't want to be hit anymore. He wanted to go to a safe place.

He didn't want to die.

…_Or did he? _

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Harry remembered that he used to be angry. He was mad at something. He had been changing recently. He had been thinking of getting revenge. He had even wanted to change something about his life. He wanted to be better. He was so angry. But his current state of mind was blocking those feelings, as though they'd never existed. He'd returned to his past, primal way of thinking, which was coming more naturally to him compared to the newly built rage.

Currently it suddenly sounded so funny that he'd felt anger earlier. It was so unbelievable that he had been thinking of getting revenge. It was weird for him to think that he deserved something better out of his life; that he deserved anything at all, for that matter. What was he but a '_Boy'_? Not even human; he was a slave. He deserved pain. He wanted to die. Hadn't he always wanted death?

So he stopped running. And he stood there, in the middle of this strange environment. Slowly, his mind started to more clearly register his surroundings. He was still inside a house, in the middle of the intersection of two large corridors. A big house. An old house. With nice, plush carpeting, and fancy ceilings.

_Where was he? Where should he go?_

Suddenly he detected some movement coming from his left. Harry quickly turned, but his eyes were suddenly covered by a pair of big hands. His body was engulfed into a hug from behind. Tight. Warm. Familiar.

_Safe_.

"Don't look. Close your eyes."

The voice was familiar. Harry followed the voice's instructions obediently. And he heard something moving from around him; a huge, long, body with a great mass, sliding quietly beside him. Then he felt a something flickering in his hair. It felt… familiar. Harry knew that he'd missed that flickering sensation. The sense of magic around him was very familiar.

The man behind him hissed something inaudible, and the flickering stopped. Harry knew both of them. He knew the scents and that warm feeling…

"Annana?" Harry called weakly. "Is that you?"

* * *

><p>At day's end, when everybody else had returned to the castle, Blaise became more worried than ever.<p>

He had bought some chocolate bars and some toys from Zonko for Harry, thinking that it might cheer Harry up. Blaise had been expecting Harry to be waiting inside the Slytherin dorm, but after double checking the common room and the dorms, Harry was still nowhere to be found.

Of course, the library was his next bid. He passed row after row of book shelves and still, no Harry turned up. He grew even more worried and when he finally reached the Restricted Section and still turned up empty-handed, Blaise knew something must be terribly wrong. The boy was a problem magnet, after all!

He ran to the Great Hall, but there were not many students inside. In fact the Slytherin table was almost empty, and Harry wasn't one of the few Slytherin students still sitting on the bench. Blaise hurried out again, this time checking the hospital wing. He still couldn't find Harry anywhere.

When it was time to have dinner, Blaise returned to the Great Hall with his fingers crossed, hoping that Harry would suddenly appear at the Slytherin table. Yet he didn't. Harry was still missing even after the meal started. Blaise looked around, almost in a panic, when suddenly a hand was put on his shoulder.

"Relax." It was Malfoy. "Harry is safe."

"How do you know?"

Draco snorted, as though saying, _what else would make you look that worried, if not Potter's condition? _"It's not your concern, really. I just wanted to warn you—don't let the teachers know. They don't need to know."

"Harry is missing, and you are saying that I shouldn't inform any teachers?"

Draco smirked. "I thought you were smart. Smart enough, anyway. Oh, and a personal warning to you: I know what you feel for him, but it will be futile to keep chasing him. Your rival is just too dangerous."

"What do you mean?" Blaise raised his eyebrows in scepticism. "_What_ do you know?" he added more dangerously, after regaining his steely Slytherin composure.

"I am just trying to help." Draco shrugged and dug a spoon into his pudding. "I know that I once said I'd help you, because it was amusing to me at the time, but things are different now. We are now treading in very dangerous waters here, my friend."

After that, no matter how much Blaise coaxed the young Malfoy to speak, Draco wouldn't open his mouth at all. Instead he ignored Blaise, for the sake of his pudding. His attitude was copied by all the Slytherin third years, indirectly informing Blaise that all of them were in on this together. Or at least, Goyle, Crabbe and Pansy were.

So Blaise eventually gave up, keeping to himself and wondering what to do next.

But he didn't need to. After dinner ended, Professor Lupin came to him.

"Mr. Zabini, I noticed that Harry wasn't at dinner tonight. Is he sick or something? Do you know where he is? He would surely have returned by now from Hogsmeade, wouldn't he?"

Blaise bit his lip. Should he tell the professor? This professor clearly cared about Harry's well-being. Blaise had seen the Professor act like a substitute guardian for Harry, now that Professor Snape was currently comatose.

But Draco's warning had been quite straightforward—he shouldn't tell the teachers anything, or _else_. And apparently the professor wasn't aware that Harry hadn't been able to pass through the Hogsmeade gate earlier that day.

"I… I am not sure, sir. But maybe Harry overslept tonight in the dorms."

Professor Lupin chuckled. "Maybe he was tired. Thank you, Mr. Zabini. Have a good evening."

Blaise felt a foul taste curdle inside his mouth—the taste of lies, and the feeling of uncertainty about whether he had done the right thing after all.

* * *

><p>"Where were you all day?" Blaise's voice seemingly came from nowhere, startling Harry.<p>

"You scared me! Don't come in, will you? I am naked!" Harry nearly screamed from his place in the bathtub. He hastily covered himself with enough bubbles to hide his body. Or, nearly enough.

Harry turned back to see his best friend, Blaise, folding his arms across his chest and looking disapprovingly at Harry. The green eyed boy swallowed hard and slid to the back of the tub, as far away from Blaise as possible. They were the only two boys inside the bathroom, and it was past midnight. Snores could be heard coming from the third years' dorm and Harry had previously been sure he'd been the only one awake.

"Why are you taking a bath now? Where were you?"

"I…. I was out."

It was the truth. He had been sort of kidnapped by Draco, sent to Marvolo's Manor, and had unexpectedly gotten to meet Annana. Upon realizing it had truly been Annana who'd flickered her tongue in his face, Harry subsequently lost consciousness. He'd slipped into a forgiving, blissfully unconscious state, momentarily free from the continuous tension and anger that'd rushed through his body and mind when he realized Marvolo had forced him to come into that Manor or wherever he was. Sadly, in the back of his mind, Harry knew he needed to face whatever fate threw at him next, so he eventually woke up. He found Marvolo sitting beside his bedside and a magically blindfolded basilisk curled around them.

While his mind was still fuzzy from remnants of fear and anger, Harry also felt really nostalgic. He had finally gotten to see Annana again. It was funny that Harry always felt animals were better companions than humans. Up until this point of his life, animals had never hurt him; even the goodbyes he'd exchanged with the unicorns were more bittersweet than hurtful. The huge serpent was still as huge as ever, and maybe even bigger than the last time he had seen her in the Chamber of Secrets.

Last time, it had only been Harry and Annana in the room, because Marvolo was stuck inside Harry's head. Now that Marvolo had regained his body, there were now three bodies in the room. Strangely, however, Harry felt content, not out of place at all. Annana hissed and flickered her tongue again and again onto Harry's face, earning a hissing scolding from Marvolo, but Harry was too happy to care. He hugged the huge serpent while carefully rubbing the cold scales. He'd missed her so much.

"_Harry… I want to apologize. I lost my temper and I hurt you." _

The words made the boy freeze in his movements. With a start, Harry realized that Marvolo was there, standing beside him and Annana. Suddenly he felt a rush of fear. Why? The answer raced through his mind: the man had just _Crucio_'ed him. At that moment, the dam of memories broke inside his mind. All at once he was hit with a series of mental flashbacks, seemingly juxtaposed randomly and out of order— the large hands that had covered his eyes; his running away from Marvolo; the sudden feeling of absolutely crippling fear; his accidental casting of forbidden Necromancy magic; his outburst of pure rage; and lastly, the source of all his rage and disasters from that day.

The kiss Marvolo had given him at his first birthday party.

Harry blushed. He refused to look the man in the eye. He truly didn't understand all the uncomfortable feelings he was now experiencing. His emotions were fluctuating and changing every single second, and Harry couldn't decide which emotion he should hold onto at the moment. He had never been good at sorting out his feelings, after all.

"_I was glad you came into my Manor. It was a very pleasant surprise and I hadn't been expecting your visit. It would have been the very first time we'd have been able to talk to each other, without being restrained by the wards and walls of Hogwarts._

"_About that time…" _Here Marvolo paused_. _ "_I did leave you very suddenly, and I had not been planning on it," _Marvolo continued, explaining at a slow, gentle pace._ "When you exchanged your source of magick for the Stone, the mirror of Erised took away all your power. At the time, I was still depending on your magical core for survival. If I hadn't left when I did, you would have ended up a Squib; your magical core would have been destroyed. I wouldn't have been able to help you, because I had yet to gain a physical body. So I left you. I don't want to leave you to die. You have great potential, Child, just like what I told you before. Instead of pursuing death, why won't you let me help you mould a better life for yourself?" _

Harry grabbed Annana's body tighter. Even with his two outstretched arms, he couldn't span the full circumference of Annana's thick body. He didn't want to listen to excuses. He didn't _want_ to… but, obediently, he listened anyway. Harry closed his eyes, trying to ignore the voice, but he couldn't.

"_...About the Tom in the diary… yes, he was me. I am him. You are looking at us now. But you must believe me when I say I hadn't planned on having you meet him in the first place. He was slipped into your shopping bag by someone other than me. And when I found him at last, we merged our souls and became one. And that's how I finally regained the full body you are looking at now." _

The boy, as if on cue, slowly looked up to glance at the man in front of him. Marvolo had indeed turned into a handsome man, an older-looking, more matured version of Tom. Just like what had happened that day in the Room of Requirement, Harry felt suffocated with the waves of magical charisma the man was radiating. He was powerful, he was attractive and he was wise. Marvolo was a Lord, and he was the owner of the large Manor they were currently in. Harry should have been nothing but glad that Marvolo was offering him his help in gaining him a better life.

"_Why did you kiss me, then?" _Harry couldn't help but ask. Courage and rage were returning slowly to his senses, fuelling his determination to have his questions from that day all answered. _"What is it that you want from me?"_

Marvolo looked pensive for a moment, but his brown eyes suddenly shone bright red, filled with possessiveness. _"I want your complete devotion to me, in exchange for my protection and guidance. And today's meeting was unplanned as well. This is my mansion, and I hope you can stay here longer. Annana misses you, and so do I." _

Harry's heart rate spiked. Really? Marvolo _missed_ him?

_Stupid_, he berated himself almost immediately. He should not ever, ever blindly believe whatever Marvolo said. Marvolo was just saying what he was saying in the context of goodwill and politeness, and out of courtesy. He was a deft politician and manipulator. Marvolo had actually admitted that he wanted Harry's complete devotion, and Harry knew, better than anyone, that Marvolo was the ultimate master of manipulation. Harry guessed that Marvolo was trying to coax Harry with false, lovely-sounding sentiments like he used to do, especially during the last two times they were very close.

"_Why should I trust you?" _Harry couldn't help but whisper his challenge. _"I trusted you and you left. I am no longer a weak and stupid child that you can just lie to; I want proof that this is real." _

"_I will do my best never to lie to you, Harry. And I offer you this. I promise you that this place will serve as a sanctuary for you. Nobody will ever bully you here, and in here it will be just you, me, Annana and three house elves that I am sure you would be delighted to get to know better. I have warded my mansion so that it has complete privacy, and no one can enter here without my direct permission. Thus I offer you a place of privacy; a room in this mansion, any room you would like, for the price of you coming to meet me here every Sunday. I have a lot of plans for you and I think you need to catch up with your suspended Necromancy studies. I prefer to have you here every day, but it is vital that you stay at Hogwarts for your normal education, so Sundays would work best for us. What do you think?"_

Marvolo had contained him inside his manor for the entire remainder of the afternoon. Harry wasn't allowed outside at all, but Marvolo did not touch him either. That night, he let Harry pet a blindfolded Annana, while Harry finally told him his decision. Harry, seeing that he had no way out, and as the deal didn't sound half-bad (and he did miss both Marvolo and Tom. Not that he would ever tell the other man, though), ended up accepting the offer.

And when Marvolo had beamed a smile at him, Harry felt himself blushing to the tips of his ears. His chest was filled with pain. Why was it that every time he resigned to succumb to the worst possible fate, this man came and turned everything upside down? This wizard kept making Harry feel something that Harry knew would surely bite him back one day.

Marvolo slowly walked towards the frozen yet blushing boy, and hugged him.

"_I owe you a hug, Child."_

Harry let himself melt inside the hug; and the somewhat familiar feeling of magic enveloped him. It was the most wonderful feeling in the world and Harry desperately clung onto it. He remembered when he'd asked Marvolo for a hug last time. Percy was the one who'd actually ended up hugging him. But hugging Percy was nothing compared to being enveloped in Marvolo's arms. So Harry basked in the wonderful feeling and the familiar sensation. It was just what he wanted. He knew he was too easy—Marvolo had managed to reduce him into a puddle of goo just by hugging him; but then, again, he wanted to be safely inside Marvolo's arms for once.

Honestly, if Harry must die, then Marvolo would be the only one Harry ever wanted to be killed by.

Meanwhile, Annana coiled herself around them, until Harry heard Marvolo hissing in irritation and Annana reluctantly uncoiled her body from them. Marvolo let Harry go as well, and Harry missed the contact as soon as their bodies weren't touching anymore.

"_Can you teach me Parseltongue again? I want to be able to speak to Annana," _Harry asked, when he heard the serpent hissing. It felt weird to not be able to understand Annana after all this time. He wanted to converse with the playful serpent again.

"_That can be arranged." _Marvolo showed a small smile and let Harry go. _"However the night is late and you need to return to Hogwarts; otherwise, you will be missed. Wait here." _

Marvolo went out from the room and came back with a pouch in his hand. Harry watched as the man opened the pouch and produced a small ring; it was set with a prism-shaped, green coloured gemstone in the middle of a sparkling golden band.

Marvolo gently took Harry's hand and slipped the ring onto his wedding finger.

"_This is a Portkey that I constructed from a family heirloom; a drop of your blood will activate it. You may only activate it outside of the wards of Hogwarts, in places such as Hogsmeade and in the Chamber. I am sorry but you need to use your own blood for identification purposes, because I want you to be surrounded with the utmost security." _

Harry nodded his head. He somehow knew better than to say anything. That moment felt sacred, and he could feel the magic heavily binding the both of them with the ring.

"_Be safe. See you next Sunday, Child." _

It was the last thing Harry heard before he was pulled back again into oblivion, assaulted with the familiar sensation of being magically transported. Harry could rightfully say he disliked such a method of transport, but when he opened his eyes, he was back inside the Chamber of Secrets.

The room itself hadn't changed much, save for traces of old potions and some smears of blood; however, when Harry walked to the end of the corridor; he saw the deceased body of his aunt. She looked horribly thin and her body had shrunk, as though she had starved to death. The body had started to decay some time ago, and Harry tried hard to hold in his vomit.

He quickly went to the usual exit, but then he realized that he'd forgotten (and he was sure Marvolo had forgotten as well) that Harry couldn't speak Parseltongue anymore. He couldn't call for the stairs. Harry started to get desperate, and began to devise a plan to Portkey back to Marvolo's Manor in order to borrow a broom or something. But, a large part of him didn't want to go back so soon, mere moments after being Portkey'ed to the Chamber. It would show Marvolo that Harry was weak and fully dependent on the man. And the new Harry was still quite angry at the man, angry enough to refuse to ask for help from him.

So he looked around, only to find there were bones and stones around him. Harry took a bone and he utilized his magic, concentrating very hard, imagining the bone Transfiguring into a broom.

After fifteen minutes, he managed to Transfigure and combine five bones into one fairly strong broom that would allow him to carry himself out from the hollow well. As he flew up, the toilet entrance opened itself up and allowed Harry to pass through. The moment he reached the second level toilet floor, the broom collapsed back into a pile of bones. Harry grimaced and threw the bones, one by one, back down into the entrance. The entrance slowly closed up and Harry fled from the bathroom before he could run into the resident female ghost.

It was already midnight, and Harry knew that he rather smelled foul, like the dank interior of the Chamber of Secrets. It would be a good idea to take a bath before slipping into his bed. The hot bubble bath would also help him calm down and unwind. Harry was starting to develop some kind of awful migraine—which only worsened when he realized that he couldn't physically remove the ring. Then Blaise had stormed in and caught him buck naked in the bathtub.

"You _didn't_. I know for a fact that you couldn't get out from past the gate."

Harry turned away. Not only he was rather self conscious about his best friend seeing him almost naked (it was mainly because of the state of his body—Harry knew he was kind of scrawny, covered in old scars, and ugly to look at, especially when he dared compare himself with other third year Slytherin purebloods who constantly used optimal skincare products), he also didn't want to lie too much to his best friend. Harry might be able to manipulate Blaise using his newfound emotions and courage, but Blaise had always been the one beside him, even when he was only the pathetic, little, idiotic first year, so many years ago. So Harry knew Blaise at least deserved the type of honesty that Harry unfortunately couldn't grant him at the moment.

"I was searching for you the whole afternoon, you know."

Harry swallowed hard. He knew he couldn't lie anymore—Blaise knew that he had gone somewhere. But somehow, for Harry, spending an afternoon with Marvolo and Annana was a subject of utmost secrecy that he didn't want to share with anyone else. So Harry kept his mouth shut and blew the bubbles on the surface of the bathwater.

Suddenly big splashes of water flew all around him. Harry turned to find Blaise entering the bathtub—fully clothed, with his robes dragging—the boy coming full speed towards him. Harry tried to scramble over to the opposite side—yet there wasn't much room, and he realized he was trapped.

Blaise kept coming nearer and nearer until he was much too close for Harry's comfort. Then the Italian boy reached out, cradling Harry's face with both of his hands, forcing Harry to directly peer into the purple eyes of his best friend.

"Talk to me, Harry," Blaise cooed. "You can trust me. I honestly worry about you. About all your sudden moody changes. About your attitude these past few weeks. I know you are stressed and depressed, maybe because of Professor Snape, or by something else I don't know about, but I am truly worried. Just talk to me. I promise I will help you ease your pain."

Harry bit his lip. His cheeks started to flush, but he blamed this on the hot water. It had nothing to do with the sincerely worried, amethyst-colored eyes in front of him. Or the genuinely worried tone of the boy he called his best friend.

"Trust me."

And in the next moment, Harry felt another set of lips pressed onto his, for the second time that year.

* * *

><p>Harry was confused.<p>

Did being 'best friends' with someone permit him kiss to you? Did 'best friends' hold hands all the time, everywhere they went? He was sure that Blaise wouldn't want Harry to 'suck' him. After all, after the boy had kissed him, all Blaise did afterwards was help Harry dry himself off. They had then settled into their own beds. But the next morning, Blaise was the one who woke him up, and waited for him till class began. Just like usual. Nothing had changed… right?

He was currently sitting beside Blaise inside the Great Hall, each of them eating their dinners as their hands were intertwined underneath the Slytherin table. The other third years had seen them holding hands earlier that morning, so they weren't paying attention to this gesture anymore, but some of the older students saw it now, and were currently stealing glances over at the Italian-African boy and the Boy-Who-Lived.

To be honest, Harry wasn't very comfortable with the sudden closeness between him and his best friend. True, he was very honoured and glad that his best friend had suddenly decided to be even more buddy-buddy with him and spend more time with him, but Blaise's timing was just the worst. At that moment, Harry needed his solitude more than ever. He wanted no more than to hide inside the Room of Requirement at all times and read tomes on the subjects of Necromancy/Animagus. He also needed his space and time to think. To decide what he should do about the newly-made arrangements he'd made with Marvolo.

Harry admitted that spending time with Marvolo didn't sound bad at all—in fact, if he were still the eleven-year-old newbie from two years ago, Harry would have given everything to be with Marvolo all the time. But many things had happened since then, and everything had changed since that time. Being abandoned by Marvolo had proven to be, Harry realized, a huge blow to his mental state. When he was with the Dursleys, he'd always readily surrendered to the abusive treatment and the prospect of a bleak future, because it was clear back then there would be no hope for a better life. But Hogwarts, and the general world of Wizarding and magic, had showed him a different side to life, albeit not so nicely in the beginning. Yet after Marvolo had appeared, everything had changed—Harry still remembered desperately doing anything to make Marvolo happy so that the man wouldn't leave him.

It had been futile, since Marvolo had still eventually left him. He'd been handed the first huge disappointment in his life, which killed him a little inside. And after his uncle had forced him into doing that perverted deed, he'd created Harry's Box inside his head to cope. Yet not long after, Marvolo had returned to his life, this time using the diary. This time, Harry subconsciously tried to keep Tom as happy as possible, so that he wouldn't leave Harry anymore—even by refusing to acknowledge that Tom was Marvolo, until it was too late—and this plan had also failed. And this second blow had crushed the last remains of hope Harry ever dared to have. The last straw came when Marvolo returned to him again—seemingly annually he would come, year after year—this time, not as a voice or as a diary, but as a solid body, with a public identity to boot. Harry knew the risk of Marvolo leaving him a third time was smaller—after all, he knew Marvolo was kind of famous (he had seen in the Daily Prophet the courtesy being handed over to Theodore Nott)—but again, could he handle yet another disappointment?

And now he needed to reconsider his newly pledged resolution of becoming stronger, getting revenge and hurting others as much as they had hurt him. Harry needed to thank his lucky stars for that unexpected kiss that Marvolo had laid upon him, for it had been the trigger that had detonated Harry's Box for good. However, when he had seen Marvolo yesterday, and heard the man's explanations—although Harry had yet to decide whether he should trust the man—that every time he'd abandoned Harry, it hadn't been intentional; Harry was again facing a dilemma. Should he believe Marvolo again? More importantly, could he survive another possible abandonment, now that he had decided that he wouldn't depend on anyone else anymore?

His mind was filled with all these complicated questions and matters, something that usually wouldn't bother him at all—in fact, Harry was so used to single pointedly thinking about death and its prospects to even care about realistic consequences—and so he needed his privacy so badly now. He wanted to figure out what to do, the best way to go about it, and get everything in his life back under control.

Alas, he lacked experience in taking charge of his life, and the sudden waves of dramatic emotions stemming from all his issues had somehow made Harry think of Blaise's sudden affection and closeness as sources of discomfort.

"Harry? Do you want more steak? You need to eat more," Blaise whispered near his earlobe, making Harry blush. He still wasn't used to having someone so close to him. Harry was glad Blaise didn't look even a bit like his uncle; their respective builds could not be more different. Harry was thus able to rein in his reactionary fear whenever the Italian African boy came too closely into his comfort zone.

"N..no, I am full." Harry stuttered, but to support his statement, he seized a goblet of water and downed it fast. He needed to hang in there and calm himself down. He was supposed to be better at this now.

"That's not wine, silly." Pansy laughed. "I see that you two finally do it. What a waste of two gorgeous boys."

"Do…Do what?" Harry blushed even harder, remembering the kiss in the bathroom last night. And he hated himself when he heard his own stuttering voice. He sounded so weak! He should be acting like a cool serpent, the epitome of Slytherin! And he shouldn't be weak! He shouldn't blush! He shouldn't stutter! Harry berated himself and pinched himself as a form of punishment.

Blaise chuckled, speaking up for Harry. "You have Draco, after all, Parkinson. I see that you should have no reason to complain."

The Slytherin girl smirked and latched herself onto Draco's arm. Draco groaned.

"_Thank_ _you_, Zabini." The Malfoy heir scowled as he tried to eat with his other hand, trying to ignore Pansy latching onto his arm.

"You are welcome." Blaise smiled like a gentleman. This was his revenge for yesterday's ambiguous warning from the blonde boy. He had been truly worried and hadn't been able to fall asleep, so he'd laid wake until he'd heard some sounds coming from the bathroom. He had quickly gone there, only to find Harry, wearing no clothes, naked, taking a bubble bath in the bathroom, naked.

Naked.

When Blaise had seen Harry's blushing adorable face, all he'd wanted to do was confess his love and kiss the life out of the other boy. They might be teenagers, but Blaise was almost 14 and he felt more mature than any of the other third year students. Ever since he was young, his mother had never bothered to shield him from her "adult" activities and duties. And so, right in the Slytherin bathroom, he had done what he had felt like doing, and now he was glad Harry hadn't refused him.

But it saddened him a little that Harry hadn't responded so well in kind. The boy had barely spoken to him and had only been blushing ever since they'd kissed (it looked adorable though). He looked lost, rather than one who was enjoying himself in Blaise's company. However, in some ways, Harry resembled a lost lamb that had followed his shepherd (a.k.a. Blaise) and had simply gone with the flow. But Blaise didn't mind. He preferred the meek Harry, because Harry's innocence was what he treasured most.

The Slytherin group was walking to their next class, Care of Magical Creatures. Blaise wasn't in the class; he had Arithmancy instead, so Harry was free from his best friend for the moment. Yet it all seemed like wishful thinking, for Pansy Parkinson, who took Care with him, suddenly came up beside him and took his hand.

"I see that somebody has given you a gift," Pansy smirked, and then giggled.

Harry blushed, but he maintained his composure. "…So?"

"That was fast. And this shows how possessive Zabini is." Pansy smirked. Harry's face drained of colour as he realised that Pansy had figured the ring was a gift from Blaise. "Weird, though," she continued chattering. "I would never have thought that this was his style. I mean, I can see why he chose a green gem, but a _golden_ band? I thought Zabini had better fashion sense than this."

Harry stayed silent. He neither confirmed nor denied her statements, because he didn't want anybody to know about Marvolo. But then again, Pansy was not only one of Draco's group members, but also his _girlfriend_ of sorts. Harry was almost certain that Pansy would know all about Marvolo. It brought another question to mind though… why on earth did Draco know about Marvolo's connection to Harry?

Harry's mind whirled. Draco's father. He was a very prominent politician in the Ministry. It would thus not be improbable at all for Marvolo to intimately know the Malfoy family. The Malfoys were very famous after all. Maybe Marvolo had paid Draco an allowance to kidnap him.

"Are you listening to me?" Pansy clicked her fingers in front of Harry's face. Harry nodded half-heartedly. He didn't care about what the girl was babbling, anyway.

"Hey, Harry! You need to realize that this ring is an _engagement_ ring!"

"What!?" Harry almost choked on his next words. "What do you mean?"

"A ring, with some sort of family symbol, I guess, but I am not sure _which_ family's symbol. I have never seen Zabini's, but maybe that is the Zabini crest. Anyway, according to the old Wizarding tradition, when you are presented with a ring like this and you accept it, it means that you are actually accepting the contract of betrothal."

Harry scowled, but then he checked himself and arranged his face in a stoic expression. "I don't think so, Pansy. It's just a… a practical gift." Marvolo wouldn't give him something that important. The ring was just a Portkey that was convenient enough to be kept with him at all times. It was functionally similar to the snake pendant Professor Snape had given him last time. The pendant was still lying in the bottom of his cupboard, since Harry couldn't see it without being reminded of the sad, current, comatose state of Professor Snape. It saddened him and it made him feel somewhat guilty. Professor Snape had done so much for him; he'd been his teacher, become his guardian, and had thrown him a birthday party; but he could do nothing to revive the Potions Master in return.

Yes, that had to be it. The ring was simply given to him for practical reasons. Marvolo didn't say anything about a betrothal, anyway. Stupid Harry; again, always leaping to conclusions. After all, why would Marvolo ever want him? Harry was nothing but a scrawny ugly boy whom nobody wanted. Useless. Harry was sure the only reason why Marvolo would ever want to keep him around, was to use him as a slave. A wholly devoted slave. Lower than the status of the House Elves.

"Hmmm… maybe I should ask Blaise about it." Pansy sang the sentence, teasing the green eyed boy. Harry pouted.

"Pansy, please stop this. And don't ask Blaise, I don't like either of us being interrogated."

"Fine, fine." Pansy smirked and they reached the outer perimeter of the Forbidden Forest. Students had already started to gather and soon, the class began. Harry was glad the girl's attention was diverted away from him. He didn't want her to question him or push his buttons any longer. He needed to think so badly. He wanted to be alone.

All of the sudden, he felt so hopeless.

His life was getting harder and more confusing by the minute.

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><p>Comment please. I need to know how badly I butchered this chapter. With all the expectation, I am really afraid I let you down. The plot will catch up next chapter. Sorry being so slow.<p>

Thanks for reading.


	21. Chapter 21

Note: This chapter was supposed to be posted last Thursday (some of you managed to read it) before I took it down. Why? Because the very first five reviews who came within the half day told me specially that the grammar in this chapter was so bad they couldn't pass through the first few paragraphs.

So. I sent it to my beta, and chapter 20-21 is betaed by Blind-Alchemist sama. She is my savior, she truly is. I cannot do any story without her. Haha although I forced her to beta this and she is not a fan of HP fandom-and she still complied!- this shows how much she loves me, ah I am so blessed.

Enjoy.

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><p>The Care of Magical Creatures lesson that day became the sole reason for Harry's bad week.<p>

They were supposed to chat with several gnomes who'd been invited to Care of Magical Creatures, specifically for the benefit of the third year classes. The students were excited: the gnomes looked like mini Dumbledores, dressed only in brown sacks, which made them appear a bit like monks. Their main duty in the Wizarding World was to guard the Earth, and so the particular students who were very interested in Herbology (like Neville) became more excited at their presence compared to the others.

Harry, on the other hand, was not interested in Herbiology all that much—true, he was good at gardening, but that was because his aunt (thinking of her always reminded him of the shriveled, mummified body he'd seen down in the Chamber of Secrets, making him inwardly shudder) had forced him to become an expert. Or else.

Thinking of his relatives never failed to darken his mind and mood. The lingering traces of fear and desperation, which grew ever stronger as he recalled the utter lack of compassion towards him from his only family members, now swirled inside his head. The sight of the dead body of his aunt had particularly disgusted Harry. His emotions seemed to have taken a physical form and were crawling their way through his skin.

Harry hated how _feeling_ made him suddenly so vulnerable—how could a person deal with such a strong mixture of emotions? Harry was clearly emotionally stunted, and he was not used to feeling—anything at all, that is. Was it normal for all people to be like this, or was it just him? These troubling thoughts only contributed to the bad mood he was currently experiencing, and without warning, Harry unconsciously let his control of wild magick slip. The ground underneath his feet trembled a bit, but not enough to deter Harry from following his current trails of thought.

Harry felt more and more uncomfortable as he slowly recalled the state in which his aunt had been found. What had happened to her? Why was she even in Hogwarts? And where were his uncle and cousin? Were they tucked someplace far away, their bodies abandoned in the way his aunt's had been, or…? He was shaking, embroiled in his emotions of disgust and fear, wallowing in memories about his awful relatives; when he realized that everyone in the class was looking straight at him.

"Wh..What?" Harry asked. "Why are all of you looking at me?"

"You, child," one of the gnomes answered in a whisper, "are the one who caused the disturbance. Your magick aligned with the Earth's core and made the Earth shake, and the Trees fall to the ground."

Harry swallowed hard. He had no concept of what he had truly done. When he looked around, though, he found that several trees had indeed fallen around them, as though the ground they'd grown on had suddenly been de-stabilized. It definitely seemed to be an impossible circumstance, because the trees in the Forbidden Forest were all very old and strongly rooted into the earth. Harry wanted to kick himself, but instead maintained a neutral face. He knew he was a freak, but couldn't he get a break once in a while? Even in Care of Magical Creatures, where they were supposed to take care of freakish creatures from all around the world, was it true that he—Harry Potter—was still the freakiest of all?

"You are the one who changed the course of the very Earth's magick… are you, then, the one who entered the unicorn's magick-field, nine seasons ago?"

Harry stepped backwards. "…How do you…?"

"We became alarmed when the Earth suddenly changed the structure of her magical law—that hasn't happened in a long time. A _very_ long time… do you have any idea what that implies?" another gnome with large, sad eyes asked. Harry shook his head.

"You are different, human child," the sad-eyed gnome continued. "You are… _different_."

When he heard the words, Harry bit his lip hard. He knew he was a freak, and he didn't need some strange gnome telling him so. He'd suffered his share of punishment for being a freak, thank you very much. Why was it that everyone just wanted to watch him burn up in self hatred?

Hating the unwanted attention centered on him and how the gnomes, one by one, would not cease exposing his freakishness, Harry turned around and ran back, deeper into the Forbidden Forest, despite the alarmed shouts coming from his class mates and his professor.

* * *

><p>He ran into the lush shade of green. The sun was still bright enough to chase off the gloomy grey mist surrounding the darkened path of the forest, yet Harry was too deep in his sense of self hatred and the primal urge to run to notice, much less care.<p>

He hated everything. It seemed as though all he did lately was to get angry at everything—the circumstances of his life, Marvolo, Blaise, Pansy, Malfoy, his professors, Dumbledore. Everyone. It was unbearable. He hadn't lived with such anger before—up till now, he was a meek pathetic slave who wished constantly for death. And whenever Harry was too immersed in his death wish, everything around him seemed so simple. Before, he needed only wish for death and in the process wallowed in self-pity. But now, he blamed everyone else for his misery. It filled him with anger—and it was very exhausting, hating everyone and being angry at something every single moment. He hated it. He hated himself more.

He wished somebody could just tell him what to do to stop all that, _to stop feeling_.

Wasn't that the irony? He was wishing for something that he clearly couldn't get. He was sure nobody would explain anything to him. Why should they? Harry was unable to ask for help. The boy unconsciously thought that no one would ever try to understand him, let alone help him out to collect the pieces of his broken mind.

Suddenly his breath was knocked out of Harry as a giant creature came up from behind him and pounced, tackling his entire body to the earth.

Panicked and surprised, Harry leapt to his feet and turned, wand in fist, ready to use violence. He faced the creature head on and stopped in his tracks when he saw the two huge blue eyes blinking innocently at him. There was no sense of malice in those eyes, which automatically calmed Harry down somewhat. Then he realized that the creature was actually a dog the size of a two-person sofa.

Dropping his wand, Harry let the dog sniff him, delighting in the suddenly friendly aura. Well, he supposed it was his usual luck. Animals loved him and Harry trusted them more than humans. He suddenly remembered how Marvolo had once called him "Hagrid-the-second."

Harry smiled for a second before scowling at the thought of Marvolo. The dog saw the expression of scorn and licked his face. It left Harry's cheek feeling wet and cold.

"Ar' ya alright?" A sound came from his left. Harry turned to see the groundkeeper, Hagrid, walking towards him from quite a distance. He looked more haggard and skinnier than the last time Harry had seen him. For a second, Harry thought he had been apprehended by Hagrid the groundskeeper and that he would need to face detention from Professor Kettleburn for running away into the forest. Then he realized that this wasn't the worst situation he could find himself in. Hagrid was a fugitive from Azkaban. That meant Hagrid was potentially dangerous. He wasn't the "kind groundskeeper" of Hogwarts anymore. And yet, Harry knew Hagrid was actually harmless; he was aware that Hagrid had been falsely accused of opening the Chamber of Secrets and for that reason had been sent to Azkaban. Harry knew, more than anybody else, that the Chamber was truly off-limits to a Hagrid-sized man (or anybody else, really). Only a Parselmouth could enter, and Hagrid was no Parselmouth.

"Hagrid," Harry said by way of greetings, with neither warmth nor accusatory tones in his voice. It was a neutral greeting.

"Ha..Harry." Hagrid looked like a deer caught in someone's headlights. He tried to back away, but then he saw the big dog and remembered what he had been trying to do. "Black! C'me back!"

Harry watched as the dog shook his head, looking torn between following Hagrid's instructions and licking Harry's not-so-delicious-but-apparently-tasty-for-the-dog-cheek. The teenager rose and patted the dog on its head. The dog's height was so great, it was standing to almost his chest. Harry cursed his stunted development; even now, with his height and built, he was often mistaken from afar for second year girl.

"Go, boy. Follow Hagrid, he knows better." Harry smiled as he gently pushed the dog away. The dog barked and circled Harry three times before it went to follow Hagrid. The gigantic fugitive smiled at Harry and they left, leaving the boy alone inside the forest again.

Harry watched the dog, curiosity overwhelming his senses. Why would the dog give off an aura of magic that was similar in scope to an adult wizard's? It was a totally different type of magical aura that he'd gotten from Moony; Moony had substantially been a ghost, whose core echoed of Professor Lupin's magic. It was very unlike the full-powered magical aura of the dog's—what was it's name? Black? It was as though the dog had its own magical core.

Weird.

Suddenly his whole body felt too cold, and the temperature around him dropped a few degrees. Harry looked around and jolted as the mist surrounding him got thicker and the trees turned into what looked like black shadows suspended in whitish air. The boy hugged his thin arms around himself, trying to keep himself warm. The change was so sudden that Harry knew that something abnormal was happening.

Something was coming towards him. Harry sensed a strong presence of great despair and anger chasing after him. It seemed almost as though the emotions he'd felt earlier had taken a solid form somehow and was getting nearer and nearer to him. With great effort, Harry moved backwards, trying to run from the source that emulated this source of great unhappiness and upset. He glimpsed billows of shredded cloaks floating about, speedily coming nearer and nearer to him.

He cursed his luck as he tripped over one of the thicker roots of the tree he'd backed up against, and fell face first onto the ground. His face hurt very badly; as Harry wiped his nose, he winced as he saw the red blood dripping over his hand. However, before he could register any sense of pain, the temperature around him dropped even lower, and Harry's eyes saw naught but darkness.

It was like being in the cupboard all over again. Harry was hit with the familiar feeling of hopelessness, the sweet despair he had always felt whenever Aunt Petunia had locked him inside that tiny space. The loud silence permeating inside the small space, with the inky blackness all around him. Knowing he would never be happy, that it was just ridiculous to ever have any hope. Knowing that wishing for salvation or happiness was something out of reach. Feeling as though the chance to have hope was completely denied.

Conversely, the darkness was predictable and thus strangely comforting in that sense. Years upon years of being groomed to be a slave would make anyone grow up with these types of morbid thoughts. The blankness of the interior of his cupboard felt like a silent dark cocoon, suffocating him. The freak had embraced his despair and accepted this abuse as a part of his life. When he'd accepted his circumstances as the way things were supposed to be, everything seemed to become better.

In a strange way, the torture he'd endured was what had ultimately molded him into the freak 'Harry'. He was Harry Potter, the unwanted child of a good for nothing and a slut who'd killed themselves in a car crash. The boy who could only eat and wear normal clothes once he finished his chores. The freak who deserved all the punishment in the world. It was during those particular moments of hopelessness that Harry would especially flirt with death.

Death. He'd learned a lot about death. And everything he'd studied proved very fascinating. What's more, somebody had taken the trouble to teach him about it, somebody Harry knew was very important in the Wizarding World. Somebody who was perhaps the most prominent figure in his life. But of course, the reverse was not true. Harry could not at all be an important figure in that man's life. The freak was a nobody, so nobody would think of him as "important."

The source of blackness and despair came nearer and nearer. Harry felt the freezing air whizzing around his head. Something, some _force_ was sucking him in… its magical presence felt evil, and very closely related to death.

It was at that moment when suddenly everything seemed to freeze and become completely still, and another figure swooped over him. Harry thought he glimpsed a large cloak before losing consciousness.

* * *

><p>When he woke up, Harry immediately recognized the patterns on the ceilings. He was inside the hospital wing, lying in the usual bed he had occupied quite often ever since he'd first entered Hogwarts. When he turned to his left, he could see the deserted, silent room, all lined with empty beds.<p>

What a picture of serenity.

The black haired teenager gasped in pain. His limbs were all weak and cold; his circulation had become very poor. What had happened? The last thing he'd remembered was returning to his small cupboard under the stairs.

The sudden feeling of despair clenched in his chest, and Harry shivered.

He wanted to forget everything. He wanted to find something, _anything_ that would take his mind off of what had just happened. He desperately needed to talk to someone, or obtain something to shield him from the feelings of fear and despair that he knew would invade his mind soon. He didn't want to call anybody though, because he didn't want anyone to see him like this, all weak and lying in a hospital bed

There was, however, one source of comfort in this wing, hidden inside the special room, behind one of the closed doors. So the boy slowly walked towards the right door and opened it.

His Potions professor was still lying stiffly on the bed, still comatose. Harry closed the door behind him silently, pulled up a stool and sat beside the bed.

His professor looked older and more fragile this way, laid out and looking like a corpse. Maybe Harry had grown some, or maybe his professor was somehow shrinking, but whatever the reason, Professor Snape didn't look as menacing and almighty as he had seemed to Harry when Harry was still a first year.

Professor Snape was one of the very few individuals who had actually done something for Harry. The Professor had given him his first pain relief potion, his first ever shopping trip (which had led to Harry's first acquisition of proper clothes, underwear, boots and socks). He had taken Harry to visit Gringotts, whereupon he'd learned the truth, that his parents had definitely wanted him. Snape had been his first guardian, his first caretaker; he had even thrown Harry's first birthday party.

Musing, Harry was suddenly overcome with guilt. And how had he returned all the kindness his Professor had shown him? Harry had brought him nothing but pain and misery. The Professor had been injured many times ever since he had taken Harry in. Harry wasn't so naïve as to overlook the fact that Professor Snape had received his coma-inducing injuries on the day of Harry's birthday. Someone from his guest list must have taken advantage of the festivities on that particular day in order to slip into Hogwarts—which usually had the perfect security system— and attack Professor Snape. So Harry was indirectly responsible for Professor's Snape current state.

He had tried, of course, to wake the professor up using magic. But it was different from healing someone who was conscious and awake as opposed to someone whose consciousness had escaped them. Harry sensed that the Professor would only wake up when he was ready, and clearly Professor Snape wasn't ready yet to wake up. Maybe he was refusing to wake up because he knew that he would need to be responsible for Harry again whenever he did.

Harry shook his head. The depressing thoughts and feelings of self blame were beginning to aggravate and annoy him. It was like an anomaly of his mind. It felt as though his brain wasn't wired properly, and so everything had to be his fault. He has this tremendously ridiculous ability to link every possible misfortune with himself. Self conceited it might have sounded, but Harry couldn't help but believe that he was truly the source of all the problems in the Wizarding World.

The boy shook his head. No. He had not come into the room in order to brood over his penchant for attracting bad luck; he was there because he was seeking a source of safety. Professor Snape more or less embodied the sense of security that Harry was clearly lacking. Earlier, when the Professor had been awake, Harry had always felt safe whenever he was near the man. True, Professor Snape wasn't gentle in his mannerisms, or a kind, gifted talker like Dumbledore or Madam Pomfrey; but deep down, Harry knew that behind those sneers and harsh words, there was no malice, only pure sincerity. To be honest, Professor Snape was the best guardian the Slytherin students had ever had; he had shielded them continuously from the taunts and outbursts of prejudice from the rest of the Hogwarts student body. Professor Slughorn was a failure in this regard, as he would leave the Slytherin students to their own devices, unless the kid being tormented had some famous relative somewhere up the family tree. Only then would he swoop in and do his job.

Biting his lip, Harry wormed his way upwards on the cot, until his head was resting on Snape's shoulder. The boy closed his eyes and slowly stopped thinking. He was safe there. He was safe.

Harry's finger dropped onto the covers, stroking the creases of the bed sheet. Madam Pomfrey must have changed the bed sheet, because it felt crisp underneath his finger. As he stroked, Harry studied the ring on his finger. The golden band with the bright green gemstone. The Portkey from Marvolo. He wasn't sure whether he should use it or not.

And then, for the first time since he'd woken up, he realized that the golden band had somewhat changed in appearance. What Harry had originally thought was a clear green stone as the center piece, actually was embedded with a floating speck of darkness. Squinting, Harry realized the "speck" was a symbol, comprised of a triangle, a circle and a line, all situated on top of one another. A symbol he was certain that he had seen many times, in so many tomes, but now he couldn't pin point which particular tomes.

Was the ring supposed to change colors like this? Or maybe he had somehow ruined the ring Marvolo had given him, by having his freakishness rub off on it?

"Harry!" a panicked voice called. Harry sat straight up and saw Professor Lupin rushing into the room, looking haggardly pale and worried. Beside him, Moony was whining. The wolf was somehow more solid and prominent-looking than his usual ghostly filmy appearance. "Harry!" Lupin said again. "What are you doing here?"

"I am sorry." Harry looked downwards, towards the floor, yet passively welcoming Moony as the wolf ghost loomed over him.

Professor Lupin continued to berate him in a stern voice for a few more minutes. During the scolding, Harry managed to piece together and learned what had happened to him. Apparently one of the security dementors had meandered into the forest upon sensing that there was some source of magic in the area. He had tracked down and caught Harry. Harry's stomach dropped as Lupin informed him that there was evidence that Harry had been almost kissed. Nobody knew how Harry had escaped the kiss, though; ultimately the boy had been found lying on the forest bed, unconscious and wrapped in an empty shredded cloak that looked like it had belonged to his attacker.

As Harry had been taken to the hospital wing, Dumbledore had done a head count of the number of dementors at the school. Sure enough, one was missing.

Harry had never seen Lupin so animated. Lupin informed Harry of how careless he was, and how Harry should exercise more self control. Lupin related an apology from the Gnomes, but Harry was too irritated to care about what they had to say. He was always being blamed for something that went wrong, and it never mattered whether he'd actually caused it or not. The lecture went on and on, and then when Madam Pomfrey came into the room, she berated Harry too, for wandering off from his own bed. The night ended with Harry being whisked back to his infirmary bed and Professor Lupin insisting that the first thing Harry do upon getting well was to learn the Patronus charm.

Harry accepted his punishment without any reaction or comment. If the Professor thought that punishing him would help, then Harry would gladly oblige.

* * *

><p>When Harry returned to class, he found that he was a day's worth behind in school work. In order to make up the school work, he was forced to skip all of Monday's classes, except for Care of Magical Creatures. He wasn't looking forward to the weekend, where he would need to somehow squeeze in finishing his homework, learning the Patronus charm from Professor Lupin, and visiting Annana in Marvolo's mansion.<p>

However, the pressure hanging over his head wasn't the worst of it. To his dismay, Harry found himself on the receiving end of many estranged looks that came from most of his peers. He felt as though he was in his first year again, when everyone hated him because he was assigned into Slytherin House and because Dumbledore favoured him. He hated the attention. He hated the childish hypocrisy that the Hogwarts students displayed.

Blaise was another matter altogether. After Harry voiced his dissatisfaction over the student body one time, the Slytherin boy sort of became his shadow. His anger boiled over once Blaise took him back under his wing—literally, by hugging Harry and soothing him in whispers, telling him everything would be okay. Blaise became his shadow and always had at least one arm on Harry's shoulder. Harry found that every time he turned his face, he would see Blaise's chest beside him at eye level. And Blaise always whispered, "everything is fine"; every time, _every single time_, Harry showed any kind of negative emotion. Harry was forced to don a neutral mask anytime Blaise was around him (which was always) and this made Harry's internal temper flare out of control.

What did he know? Blaise actually did not know much about Harry. Perhaps substantially more than others, but still, he didn't know _everything_ about Harry. And why would Blaise jump to the conclusion that Harry needed comfort? What he really needed now was somebody—to _hurt_, that is. He needed relief; he needed to alleviate his pain by causing pain to someone or something else. He wanted to hit something, to hurt, to kill… or simply to get a reaction. But he couldn't, because every time he started to unleash his aggression, he'd flush or pale—either from anger or embarrassment or from something else, Harry wasn't sure—and Blaise would flock to his side, murmuring about how everything was fine and that Harry needed to calm down.

Sometimes Harry tried to calm himself down by reminding himself that Blaise was just doing the job of a 'best friend'. And wasn't that all that Harry had ever wanted? A best friend who would stay with him at all times, protect him, and tell him that everything would be fine? These thoughts brought a fresh wave of rage and hatred towards himself—for Harry realized how pathetic his old self seemed to be. And it culminated into an endless, vicious cycle of self-hatred, and disdain towards everything.

He tried his best to deal with his pile of school work. After two sleepless nights, he managed to catch up with his peers, but the stress had eaten away at his temper and self-control. Without sleep, Harry was feeling even worse than usual. Nowadays he felt as though he would explode at any given moment.

Four nights from the day he had been singled out as more freakish than even the freaking creatures of magic, those _gnomes_, the rage that had been steadily blazing inside him finally took its toll. Harry had been experiencing difficulty falling asleep ever since he'd burned the midnight oil for two days straight finishing his pile of schoolwork. He was on his bed, trying very hard to read the book in front of him—a fourth-year Charms textbook he had borrowed from the library that was so boring he was hoping he'd fall asleep just from reading it— when suddenly he was seized with a wild desire to tear the book apart until it was nothing but shredded paper.

Fortunately, common sense kicked in (Harry sometimes wondered how on earth he had retained common sense after all he had been through). He reminded himself that such an action would only condemn him to a terrible future relationship with the strict librarian. Furthermore, tearing apart books would not be a real solution to his anger. He shouldn't hurt or destroy anything, because he had no right to do so. The only thing that was fine to be hurt by him was his own body. So instead, Harry bit his left hand as hard as he could, not letting up on the pressure as he felt his skin tear. He then yanked his teeth away immediately.

There was an awful aftertaste inside his mouth. A ring of broken flesh marked the bite on his hand, which looked reddish and purple. There was minimal bleeding, but the waves of pain brought a sick satisfaction inside Harry's mind.

This was new and interesting. Normally, he abhorred pain. But when _he_ was the one who inflicted pain on himself, it somehow felt okay. Better, even. He felt as though he were in control. He felt calm. Because he knew how much damage his body could take, and he trusted himself to not go too far. That was very new.

That felt… oddly wonderful, actually.

His anger had gone away. Disappeared, _pfff_, just like that. It felt good. His mind and body felt light, after days of never ending, heavy anguish. He studied the torn skin and the purple-reddish bruises, nodding in satisfaction. He'd found a way to calm himself, to keep the anger at bay.

The bite mark slowly turned into new, reddish-looking, irritated skin, and then disappeared completely. The entire process had taken place in just a few minutes. Harry remembered that Marvolo had healed him last time using his eyes. Marvolo had told him that he was helping Harry to heal and get better. But looking back, that man had done nothing but use him and lie to him. Harry himself had possessed the power of fast healing from the start.

Closing his eyes, Harry's breaths quickened. Marvolo had promised him death, but he still lived. Marvolo had told him to study hard and become a nice boy, but Marvolo had left him before he could possibly have seen Harry carry out these accomplishments. And when the boy had finally confronted him, Marvolo had given him excuse after excuse, and at the time Harry had agreed that his reasoning made sense. But still, the fact remained that the man had once abandoned Harry with nothing but despair.

His anger rose again, and Harry bit his hand again, harder this time. As the taste of copper filled his mouth, he yanked his face away quickly and bit again. Again. And again. This time, the blood flowed freely from his wrist, and the sight of it was ever more satisfying. The throbbing pain proved that he was alive and in control of his life. It was liberating.

The minute his hand healed, Harry bit his wrist again. Like a rabid dog, he kept his jaw locked on his wrist, maintaining the pressure, directing every last ounce of his madness. When he pulled away, glimpsing his own teeth marks on his reddish and torn skin, Harry sighed in satisfaction.

_Wonderful_.

Feeling quite amazingly refreshed, Harry came to a conclusion. He would learn the Patronus Charm so that Professor Lupin would be happy, and he would go to Marvolo's mansion on Sunday. He would treat Marvolo the way Harry had been treated—i.e., using him for his amusement. He would also ignore Blaise's annoying words and instead pay more attention in his classes. The decision cleared his cloudy mind, and suddenly he felt sleepy.

That night was the first night in a long time that Harry fell into a deep slumber.

* * *

><p>Remus watched Harry as the boy slowly entered his quarters. Today was their first Patronus lesson, and he was dreading it. He wasn't sure how much he could help, but to think back on how Harry had almost been kissed by a dementor, made him miserable and even more afraid. He had lost James and Lily, he had lost Peter, he couldn't decide what his thoughts on Sirius were, and then he'd lost Severus to the Dark Lord's attack. Everything was crumbling around him and he was the only one who could protect Harry.<p>

Yet Harry, being Harry, was truly a trouble magnet.

"Good evening, Professor," the boy said. It sounded so formal and Remus wanted to hug the boy. Harry was looking pale and the expression on his face was strangely tight. As though something inside him was threatening to burst.

Maybe the boy was still really worried about Severus. When Remus had found Harry sitting beside Severus' bed, he realized that Harry must have held Severus in very high regard. It was… in a word, adorable. And the thoughts soothed Remus a little bit. At least Harry felt safe with someone, and wanted to be with someone. Harry was still human.

So they started the lesson. Remus began, "Harry, I know this spell is very complicated and I don't expect you to master it in a day. But this spell is a very important spell and it is the _only_ way to expel those dementors away from you."

"Professor, I have a question." Harry suddenly looked up and Remus was taken aback by those green eyes. They were tired eyes, heavy with burden. "Why are there dementors in Hogwarts? Why is Sirius Black aiming to go to Hogwarts? I believe this castle is very safe and magically secured. If I were him I wouldn't dare come near Hogwarts. I would run away somewhere more deserted, more off the map, if I were him."

Remus didn't answer right away. Harry should know the truth. But Remus was not sure how much he should disclose. So he opted for the safest route.

"Siri…Black was a known supporter of You-Know-Who. He betrayed your parents and killed Peter Pettigrew by detonating a magical explosion that caused the death of twelve other Muggles. He is very dangerous and should have been imprisoned in Azkaban for the rest of his life. But now he is escaped from Azkaban, and you… you are his main target. Because you are the one who killed his master."

Harry tilted his head. And he sighed.

It signaled the end of the conversation. Instead, Remus asked Harry to repeat the Patronus incantation, explaining that the boy needed to fuel the spell with 'happy thoughts'.

Harry stopped moving his wand when he heard this.

"Happy thoughts?" the boy asked.

"Yes. Any happy memory you can think of. The happier the better. These are the fuel of the spell. Dementors are dark creatures that feast on your fears and suck out your positive feelings. This charm focuses and re-directs your positive memories so that they block their effects on you."

Harry looked away. "Is there… is there any other spell that can do that without the need of… a happy memory? Or is there a spell somewhere that outright kills them?"

"No, I don't think there is any spell that can actually kill a dementor." Remus shook his head. Although the fact that Harry was found wrapped in a Dementor cloak was indeed a strange coincident with the decrease in the number of Dementors in Hogwarts. "This is the only known spell that works. Well, maybe to start, think of a happy memory. Like… like your birthday party! You can think of your birthday party…" Remus closed his mouth. He was so stupid! He was digging his own grave. During his last birthday party, Harry had ended up in such a sorry state that Remus couldn't help but feel very guilty for even bringing up the topic.

Harry sighed. "Is there any other way? Other than using a happy memory?"

"…I am afraid there is none. Just _try_, Harry."

Harry nodded and brandished his wand. But even by the end of the hour, Harry was unable to produce anything at all. Instead, the air inside the quarters got heavier and heavier. Remus could feel Moony trembling beside him. Moony definitely sensed something coming from the boy. Anger. And power.

Remus forced Harry to stop when their time was up. Sighing, the Professor told him to return to the Slytherin dorms. The boy reluctantly agreed and went on his way. As Harry walked away, Remus wondered what the boy was feeling now. He had truly seemed incapable of recalling a single happy memory, which worried Remus so much. What kind of harshness had Harry experienced in his young life?

Remus was afraid to know.

Now, he felt as though he had truly failed everyone.

* * *

><p>Marvolo would never admit it, but he was relieved when he saw Harry appear in front of him that morning.<p>

He knew that he had made the boy promise to come, but the promise wasn't magically binding, so he wasn't sure whether Harry would really come of his own will or not. Saturday had passed without any sign of Harry, so Marvolo had been ready to think another way to drag the child into his mansion. Yet Harry was here, standing in front of him, and yet strangely closed off.

"Welcome." Marvolo smiled softly and signaled for the boy to come nearer to him. Harry complied and he walked towards Marvolo. When he was mere inches away from the man, Harry stopped and stood beside Marvolo's armchair.

The older wizard trailed his finger onto Harry's smooth cheek, enjoying the softness of the boy's skin. Harry stared back at him, unblinking. Marvolo smiled. The boy was truly a fine specimen of a wizard. Not only the child was so powerful, Harry looked more and more beautiful each time they met.

The green eyes were a bit darker, but the eyelids created an elegant frame around those green emeralds. The lush black eyelashes were getting longer and curled softly at the ends, shading the orbs. Harry possessed a very prominent nose and cheek bones, as well as full, well shaped lips, which emitted a darkened pinkish color. It reddened even more whenever the boy's face paled and made it into such a luscious contrast. Harry hadn't had a haircut in a while, so his raven hair fell loosely, curling into the nape of his neck and brushing against his shoulders.

"How was your week, my Child?"

Harry closed his eyes. "Please teach me the Patronus charm."

"Why?"

"…Because there are too many dementors in Hogwarts." Harry blinked. "And apparently some wizard named Sirius Black is trying to kill me."

Anger bubbled inside Marvolo. How dare that filthy Black try to kill his Harry! And why…? Without thinking, Marvolo reached around and grabbed Harry's neck tightly, pulling the boy towards him. Harry meekly collapsed into his arms, and he ended up sitting on Marvolo's lap.

Coolly, Marvolo stroked the child's hair. This seemed to have a calming effect on him. The man breathed in the scent of the teen's hair; nice, very nice. Harry truly felt like his little pet. When he looked downwards, he saw that the boy had closed his eyes and soft snores could be heard. The boy's magical aura felt tuned down and synched with Marvolo's. It was clear that Harry had fallen asleep.

Marvolo smirked. With the child still balanced in his lap, he continued reading the papers and scheming while gently patting the small boy. He could definitely get used to spending his Sundays this way. Definitely.

* * *

><p>Thanks for reading.<p> 


	22. Chapter 22

Author note: This is going to be long, but please read.

Being indecisive is one of my forte. I always ace in multiple choice questions but never able to decide where I should end up having dinner from (always, always, end up in fast food join or Thai: after thirty minutes of trying to think whether Italian or Chinese sounds better). Why I am telling you this? Because last chapter I told you I was losing my motivation to continue this story. Yet there is a new chapter now, huzzah!

I know you dont care as long as there is a new chapter always, but let me rant here. Last chapter was awful. The response: awful. Writing it: awful. Reading it: awful. Grammar: totally awful. The number of alerts decreased after that chapter was posted. Reviews are awkward and I know you guys really tried to be positive and helpful (Thanks sooo much) but I get the sense of dread. Where is _Hasegawa_ going to take this story to? Another endless black hole of self angst? Self abuse? When will Harry passed through the third year?

The thing is I dont believe people realize that no depressed people like Harry (and me, ha ha) can be super happy the next second. Except if you have alternating depressed-mania condition.

Harry is a teenager. I believe most of us have been through there or currently through it (honestly, I know you guys are not of age to read M as yet, LOL). Canonly, Harry derived the feeling of being a 'normal' teenager from looking at Ron Weasley (The normal teenager in the movie. Hermione doesnt count, she is also a very socially awkward person). In this story, he has no such thing. And so, he struggled in trying to control his emotions.

There are lots of thing you can do to curb your emotions: self harm (I am very familiar with this), self hatred, or trying to pass the hurt and pain to external world. Harry was switching in between these bad choices, because he believed that he should do everything by himself. So, until this reach book four, I dont think the number of self angst going to decrease.

On another note, Harry is learning as well. He associated Snape with safety, Marvolo with comfort and wise, Blaise with friendship. However, the world is very complicated. what you feels is not what others feel (remember the story of eight blind men trying to explain an elephant?). So Harry's desperate silent attempt to make sense of normalcy is sometimes smashed by others' wrong impression of what they think Harry was supposed/intending to do.

Next, I am not sure how long this story is going to be. Honestly, I stopped my imagination after second year when I start writing this. Now it is mostly based on pessimistic reality. Also, real life demands more of my time. I had the usual very busy and demanding semester, a stalker (who, increase my aversion to men), and mid life crisis. My beta can tell you how weird my mind is, and she is trying her hardest to help me going through this. sounds really cheesy eh? But I owe my sanity to her (Ha ha. My loyal reader from hetalia fandom should know how all my stories are morbidly depressing. You may call me a weak pathetic person, but hey, what do you know about my history? Writing is some sort of therapy, and that's why it showed my pessimistic view on the world). And she is my number one supporter (dont believe me? read her review). if i can marry her, I will. Ha ha.

And if you expect any smut soon, then you'll be disappointed. I have one shot for that, and I refused to infuse smut into this story at the moment because it would ruin the flow.

Thank you for reading the long author note, and very special thank you for my beta. She is awesome. Very awesome.

...Please read without expectation. I am tired of getting constant review demanding something new. Honestly, if you want to enjoy, just enjoy. if dont, close the window. Nobody is going to be mad at you.

* * *

><p>Harry slowly walked towards the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, with Blaise on his tail. They were heading to class early because Blaise wanted to reserve the best seats.<p>

Ever since Harry had started to viciously bite himself whenever he felt the urge to, Blaise's presence beside him was somehow not as annoying as it had been initially. Harry's wrist was still reddish-looking and sore from a previous biting session that he'd held inside the privacy of a restroom stall. But as brief as this session was, it had done wonders to the green-eyed boy's mood, as he could now easily tolerate Blaise's arm around his waist.

The intimate position of his best friend's arm made walking in a straight line quite difficult for Harry, but it seemed the Italian boy was all too happy with the current physical arrangements (he was so close to Harry that every time they moved, Harry could feel his hips brushing against Blaise's thigh).

"You look happier this morning." Blaise smiled at him. "I am glad to see you looking better."

Considering that he had just tried to eat his own wrist mere moments before, Harry had no idea what would constitute the "right answer" to this statement. He opted to simply smile in return. "Thank you, Blaise."

And he was shocked out of his mind when Blaise suddenly leaned forward and pecked his cheek, applying enough pressure to make Harry's head tilt at a sharp angle.

"You are _adorable_, Harry."

Harry blinked rapidly, looking a bit like an owl. He had no clue what was happening. He felt himself breaking into a sweat and becoming more and more uncomfortable; was it okay for best friends to kiss each other like that? His thoughts raced. It was only on the cheek… so maybe it was quite alright.

Should he, then, reciprocate the act? Should he kiss Blaise's cheek as well?

Maybe he should.

So he stopped in his tracks, and looked upwards. Blaise stumbled, but he was eventually forced to halt as well. Slowly, they turned towards each other.

Harry swallowed hard. Due to their height differences, Harry had to stand on his toes in order to touch his lips to Blaise's dark cheek. When it was over, Harry quickly dropped back onto the flats of his feet. He was in the midst of turning, fully intent on continuing towards the classroom, when Blaise suddenly—using no small amount of physical force—grabbed his waist and kissed Harry on the mouth.

Harry held his breath. … _Right_. He hadn't expected this development at all. Should he kiss back now? Was it even normal to feel this uncomfortable while one was being kissed?

"Hey, get a bloody room, faggots!" a voice suddenly yelled towards them.

Harry had never in his life found Ron Weasley's presence as wonderful as he did at that particular moment. Blaise let go of Harry immediately, and Harry felt his cheeks burn with embarrassment. Not only had he been caught snogging Blaise, _Weasley_ was the one who had caught them. By the day's end, there wouldn't be a single soul in Hogwarts who wouldn't have heard of what had transpired; news of Harry and Blaise snogging would no doubt turn into the hottest Hogwarts gossip item of all time. Harry hid his face behind his palms, increasing the pressure of his fingers onto his skin, as though hoping to bury himself within his own palms.

"Shut up, Weasel!" Blaise retorted with a surprising degree of hatred. Harry had never heard him sound so infuriated. Obviously he must be irritated beyond belief at someone interrupting his snogging the life out of Harry. The bigger boy shielded the more effeminate youngster behind his body as he stared hard at the red-headed Gryffindor. "What, you are _turned on_ by stalking us?"

"N…Never! _Faggots_!" The red-headed boy repeated as he turned bright red. "Why would I EVER stalk you, you fucking faggots!?"

"Really? 'Faggots?' Is that the best you can come up with? Bravo, don't you deserve a medal. You are in denial, Weasley. Everyone knows how infatuated you are with Harry," Blaise growled, walking closer to the red head. They were about the same height, with similar-looking builds, but whereas Ron was gangly, Blaise was sturdy, with prominent muscle tone. The Slytherin grabbed the Gryffindor's collar, pulling the red-head closer. He started whispering in cold, threatening tones.

"I know how you feel about Harry, but he is _mine_. Back off!"

It was at that moment the rest of the Slytherins and Gryffindors who shared the same DADA class appeared at the scene. Many of them had witnessed the entire confrontation.

Glancing around rapidly, Blaise deduced that if anything were to really happen, he would most likely be the one blamed, so he simply shoved Weasley aside as he let his collar go. Without looking back to check whether Weasley was alright, he returned to Harry's side. Harry was looking utterly lost; mutely, he allowed the other boy to lead him into the classroom.

Harry meekly followed Blaise into the classroom and sat down where Blaise pointed. He was never very fussy about the location of his seat, as long as it wasn't a seat that would highlight his presence. When he was settled, immediately the seat behind him was occupied by none other than Pansy Parkinson. The loudmouthed girl was grinning widely as she patted Harry's shoulder; this gained the boy's attention.

"Nothing like a morning cuddle, huh, Harry?" she whispered into the boy's ear. Harry blushed to the tips of his ears.

"Shut up." Harry tried to swat her away as though she were some kind of pestering fly, and Blaise immediately was all over it.

"Do you have a problem, Parkinson?" Blaise asked politely, but he shifted closer to where Harry was seated. Harry squirmed in his seat, subconsciously trying to move towards the very edge. Luckily, class officially began right then, and thus Harry had a chance to collect himself.

He was really _lost_ when it came to this friendship business. Maybe, next Sunday, he should ask Marvolo for advice on what to do.

His train of thought was cut short when Professor Lupin instructed the class to move into the adjacent classroom for the practical portion of their lessons. Apparently, today they would be facing Boggarts. As the class formed a line, confronting the Boggart one by one, Harry watched in amusement at how the mercurial creature changed forms constantly. One minute, the image of Professor Snape in a lady's garment (which prompted Blaise into taking and squeezing his hand, which somehow made Harry feel a bit better about his lingering guilt) was at the front of the room; the next, a banshee who screamed at the top of its lungs replaced Snape, and then the banshee was substituted by a giant hairy spider with twelve legs.

By the time there was only one person in front of him, Harry realized that he didn't have an inkling as to what his Boggart would turn into. But he stopped thinking when his turn came. He was face to face with a huge, scary-looking clown, bobbing and smiling at him from within a huge box.

Harry's Box.

And suddenly the clown shifted and transformed into a verifiable whale of a man, red-faced and clearly angry. In his left hand was clenched a whip; in his right, a long belt. But that wasn't the worst shock in store for Harry.

His uncle was naked. His manhood was standing erect, twitching itself right in front of Harry's face.

The room fell into a silence so potent; one could hear a pin drop. Then a couple of the girls started screaming, followed by some of the boys cussing in disbelief. Harry found he was unable to move. Someone jumped in front of him, and his uncle turned into a silver ball suspended in the sky. "_Riddikulus_!" was all he heard, and with a whooshing sound, the Boggart flew back into the cupboard.

Harry's heart was beating so rapidly, he was starting to break into a cold sweat. His stomach felt as though it was contorting in pain, and in the next second, the familiar taste of blood filled his mouth. He vomited, dropping onto his knees, his small body shaking uncontrollably.

Harry's Box was gone. It had already been destroyed a long time ago. It shouldn't have appeared. But why… why was he still afraid of it?

Suddenly he felt a hand on his shoulder, and his body reacted violently.

"DON'T TOUCH ME!"

Someone was calling his name. The sound did nothing but irritate him. He couldn't care less about what they wanted from him. All he could concentrate on was staying curled up in order to soften the force of the blow. And to be as far away as he could from that monstrous, squirmy thing his uncle called as his "manhood." The touching persisted, and Harry gasped even louder.

"DON'T TOUCH ME! I DON'T WANT IT! LET GO OF ME!"

But the number of hands touching him increased. Harry shuddered and began to beg.

"Please… no more, please…"

His heart inside his chest was thumping so hard he thought it'd burst out of his ribcage. Like a rag doll, Harry went limp and collapsed onto the floor, and he bit his wrist hard. Somebody started screaming for him to stop, but he ignored them.

Faintly, Harry heard a _zap_! A second later, a burst of magic hit him full-force. Harry felt his body petrifying as the spell took effect, and then everything went black.

* * *

><p>When he opened his eyes, he found that he was inside the infirmary. Wonderful, Harry thought to himself. There was not a single week that had gone by recently where he hadn't taken at least one trip to the infirmary. It might even be a good and proper idea nowadays to simply move all of his belongings into the infirmary, judging by the unhealthy frequency at which he was sent to the Hogwarts health bay.<p>

Why was he here again?

He didn't have much of a chance to reminisce and recollect his thoughts because Madam Pomfrey came in and began fussing over him. She was followed closely by Professor Lupin. Harry accepted their coddling in silence, and meekly accepted the offered Calming Draught. He was surprised though, when Blaise suddenly appeared in the doorway. Looking a bit nervous, the other boy came over and sat beside Harry's bed.

"Harry." The boy hesitated before continuing. "…How do you feel?"

"Fine, now," the emerald eyed boy answered as he put down the vial of Calming Draught. "Don't you have class, Blaise?"

"I do. Potions is going on now, but I skipped it." Blaise grinned weakly. "But that is not important. You're finally awake. I… I am here to apologize."

Harry blinked. Twice.

"I shouldn't have let you face that damn Boggart," Blaise explained. At these words, Harry's confusion spiraled into anger. He wanted to hit Blaise. He found Blaise's overprotectiveness of him deeply exasperating, not to mention mortifying. Harry might be a pathetic excuse of a human, but he was also a survivor, through and through. Facing a _Boggart_, of all things, was absolutely nothing compared to what he'd faced in his past.

And the way Blaise treated him made Harry feel like some kind of bloody damsel in distress. Harry was not a girl. He was not weak. And he was definitely not as loveable as a typical girl would be.

Blaise resumed without having any idea of what was actually passing through Harry's mind.

"… And I shouldn't… I shouldn't have forced too much… well, physical affection on you. I never realized… I never _knew_ the extent of your abuse, or much at all about your past, Harry. If I had known, I wouldn't have kissed you or touched you. I know now that I was making you feel very uncomfortable, and I am very sorry for that. I would never willingly do anything to make you feel uncomfortable."

Harry was speechless. Blaise seemed to take the other boy's silence as a refusal of forgiveness. He stood up and smiled sadly.

"Of course I'll give you time to think about it, Harry. I will accept whatever decision you make about our relationship. But I hope that, in the meantime, you will at least still think of me as your friend."

And with those parting words, the Italian African boy left Harry alone inside the infirmary.

* * *

><p>Harry couldn't be happier with the sudden changes in his routine. Now, Blaise ceased to follow him everywhere. He was free to be on his own for once, without hearing whispers of "You'll be fine," and the sudden, unanticipated, anxiety-inducing kissing in the hallways. Although, when he was being really honest with himself, deep down Harry admitted that he might have liked the latter quite a bit… only when it was a peck on his cheek, however. No more.<p>

The semester turned out to be fairly busily normal for him. Harry would often update his schedule, making sure he had time for the usual casual bantering with the Gryffindors in the corridors and in classes, his swamp of assignments and tests, and occasional visits to the library, castle kitchen, and the Room of Requirement.

He had considered abandoning his Patronus charm lessons altogether when both him and Professor Lupin realized that Harry's single so-called "happy" memory (wherein Harry had first discovered that his parents had truly loved him) was only able to produce a very weak, thin, silvery mist from the tip of his holly-crafted wand. Feeling like a failure, Harry had angrily abandoned the lessons, deciding that Marvolo would prove to be a better teacher than the Professor.

However, he returned the next day, apologizing for any perceived rudeness to the Professor. Fortunately Professor Lupin was too busy blaming himself for the failed lesson, and was not angered at all by Harry's attitude. He was very relieved upon hearing that Harry still showed some interest in meeting with him. Thus, instead of forcing the boy to learn the Patronus charm, they learned about Animagi instead.

Thanks to Lupin, Harry absorbed the theory faster than if he had attempted learning it on his own, and soon the only part of the subject he had left to master was the practical component. Professor Lupin promised to get to the practical part of the lesson as soon as he was able to secure an Animagus-Revealing Potion for Harry. If only Professor Snape was healthy; then obtaining the potion would be no problem at all. However, since the Potions Master was lying comatose in the infirmary, Professor Lupin told Harry that he needed to make it himself, and it would take some time, since he had no ingredients for the potion at hand. It had been quite a while since he'd made any potions at all by himself. Harry was adamant that he should be the one to buy the proper ingredients, but in this Professor Lupin proved to be even more headstrong than he was. Thus, after an hour or so of debate, Professor Lupin won and paid for the ingredients.

Halloween was once again around the corner. The castle itself seemed to be in high spirits and soon cheerful mischievous pranks were being pulled on students at every possible corner. Everybody loved the Halloween feast so much. Harry's usually consistently gloomy mood was nearly swayed by the festivities, and he let himself smile and laugh more with his Slytherin peers. Although, the season also seemed to awaken a devious side in him, and he soon became actively embroiled in many prank wars against the 'Gryffindorks'. Draco and Nott welcomed him into the Slytherin prank-pulling circle and they busied themselves setting traps for and pulling pranks on the third-year Gryffindor boys, laughing in earnest when Thomas' hair turned bubblegum pink and Weasley's nose turned into a pig-snout.

Nott especially appreciated Harry's involvement, as Harry proved to be the most skillful at yielding wandless and silent magic. Even Draco had to admit that he himself was awed by Harry's obvious power and talent. Between him, Nott, Crabbe and Goyle, they promised that they would keep their admiration a secret. Harry also made them promise that, although the others in the clan were more or less fair game, they were not to touch Percy Weasley.

Harry hadn't spent much time at all with Percy ever since he'd caught him and Penelope kissing, and it seemed that the prefect was too busy anyway with his studies to look after Harry. Sometimes they would bump into one another in the library, and smile awkwardly at each other. Unbeknownst to Harry, Percy so wanted to explain his thoughts to the smaller boy, but Harry was being stubbornly adamant about not wanting to stick around to hear them. Harry absolutely refused to confuse himself any further from obsessing a minute more about the notion of 'love'. Thinking about it got him nowhere. The concept was too vague and he was very sure he would never understand it anyway, so why bother with trying to learn any more about it.

These days Blaise looked torn between reprimanding Harry and letting the boy have his fun (because Merlin _knew_ how badly Harry needed a source of amusement in his life). What worried him the most was the smaller boy's tendency to push the envelope—sometimes it was clear, from the spirit of his pranks, that Harry had intended to inflict true pain on the individual, rather than simply harmlessly prank them.

Draco and Nott dispelled Blaise's worries, accusing him of "overanalyzing" Harry. They pointed out that he—Blaise himself—did have the tendency to overreact whenever anything concerned Harry. In the end, Blaise decided to physically follow the boys whenever they went to go prank the 'Gryffindorks,' just to make sure that Harry didn't get hurt, while also making sure that Harry didn't go too far and overstep that delicate boundary between pulling silly pranks and seriously harming others.

Of course, the Gryffindor boys retaliated, and things soon escalated into an all out prank war—Gryffindor _vs_ Slytherin. The key players became the third-year students of each House and above. The Gryffindors, headed by the Weasley twins, typically opted for attention-grabbing, flashy pranks. Contra wise, the Slytherins would opt for sneaker, more subtle pranks that would result in the Gryffindors losing copious amounts of House points. The Slytherins had no head at all—the third-years, fourth-years, etc. worked separately, in order to make their respective Gryffindor opponents suffer as much as possible.

Professor McGonagall and Professor Slughorn realized what was going on almost a bit too late—the war at that point had embroiled the two Houses in an extremely tense and hostile situation. By the day before Halloween, three Gryffindor boys were laying in the infirmary, each covered from head to toe in hexes and jinxes, while two Slytherins were also hospitalized, each bearing legs turned to concrete. Madame Pomfrey was overworked and frustrated at the situation, but all she could do was berate every single student that ended up in her infirmary.

The two Heads of Houses decided that enough was enough; they had to put an end to this not-so-silly war. They each called respective House meetings with their students. The students were warned that any future pranking would place them in severe detentions and that their guardians would be notified.

Harry was, of course, very disappointed with the circumstances. He had been having the time of his life—hexing the hell out of those bastard Gryffindors while socializing merrily with his dorm mates. While occupied with the prank war, not once had he thought of biting his wrist. He was understandably reluctant to resort back to biting himself, but from his current outlook, he had precious few other options in which to channel his anger.

On the other hand, Harry had been having unexpectedly lovely visits with Marvolo each week. Sundays became that relaxing day of the week that both of them looked forward to. Initially, Marvolo had promised that he would teach Harry about magic every time he visited, but now, whenever Harry would appear at his mansion, he would snuggle his way into Marvolo's lap and simply fall asleep. It had all started back when Marvolo had physically forced Harry to come nearer to him, and they had ended up in such a position. Without admitting it out loud, they both realized that the position provided comfort and a sense of deep contentment for both of them.

It was most curious, Harry mused, that Marvolo's lap felt way safer and more comfortable than his nice, expensive, four-poster Slytherin bed. Every Sunday, the minute Harry appeared, Marvolo would put aside whatever he was currently working on. Harry would climb in his lap, and Marvolo would continue to stroke the boy's hair until he himself fell asleep in his chair. Usually whenever they woke up, they would have a small meal together, and play with a blindfolded Annana.

It was during one of these visits that Harry worked up the courage to tell Marvolo all about Blaise and his odd behavior—from kissing him in the bathroom that night, to how he had become Harry's shadow, showering the boy with affectionate gestures and kisses. Harry told Marvolo about the Boggart who'd shapeshifted into his abusive uncle, and the subsequent change in Blaise's behavior when Blaise had witnessed Harry's terror at the sight. When he was finished, Harry was optimistic that Marvolo would explain everything clearly to him and reassure him about Blaise; but how very wrong he was. Harry had never seen Marvolo look so incensed.

At Marvolo's expression, Harry swallowed hard and steeled himself to run—the last time he'd seen Marvolo look that angry, he'd ended up getting Crucio'ed. Before Harry could return back to Hogwarts, however, Marvolo gripped his arm. The man pulled his face into a calm expression and apologized. Then, unexpectedly, Marvolo assigned Harry some old tomes to read, explaining that it would actually be best to get the most out of each 'unproductive' Sunday they spent, and that these particular tomes he'd specifically selected for the boy. Marvolo also calmly reasoned that since Harry was obviously ill-equipped to ever learn the light spell of Patronus, they should approach the problem using other means such as mind control and meditation. He also warned Harry about the Italian African boy, making Harry promise to tell him whenever Blaise got too close to him in the future. Harry agreed to the promise, inwardly relieved that Marvolo wasn't planning on _Crucio-_ing him that day.

Grumbling under his breath, the boy temporarily put aside his Hogwarts assignments and started to read the books. The books were barely legible and were written in ancient languages, including Welch and Ancient Runes. The text was similar to those of the books he'd read as a first-year, within the Chamber.

One of the more peculiar books looked suspiciously like a mature witches' magazine. It had been written in modern English and was beautifully illustrated. It comprised a new edition of hexes and jinxes, as well as a long article that was aptly titled "Stalker 101: How to Eliminate Your Stalker." The article included an explanation of typical stalker behavior, tips on identifying potential stalkers, and even certain methods on how to "eliminate" stalker behavior.

Most of the books were very interesting and soon Harry's head was swimming in new information on the subjects of forgotten arts, including meditation, channeling one's inner magic, and ancient methods of protection from malevolent magical auras. Marvolo had charmed the books to appear as normal textbooks, so when other people tried to peek at what Harry was reading, nobody questioned the books in his possession.

* * *

><p>The topics of Sirius Black and the Patronus charm didn't worm their way into their meetings at all. Frankly, Harry found he didn't care all that much about Sirius Black. If the man wanted to kill him, he should just show up already. Harry would welcome him with open arms. As for the Patronus charm, it proved too much of a hassle to learn. And so, he was quite surprised when, during Halloween night, a strange incident was reported. Sirius Black had apparently been attempting to break into the Gryffindor dormitory by slashing the Fat Lady's painting.<p>

Why on earth would Sirius Black try to breach the _Gryffindor_ dorm when Harry Potter, the boy he was aiming to kill, was publicly known as a Slytherin student?

Of course, nobody got any sleep that sensational night. The Great Hall transformed into a room full of busybodies and gossip-mongers. Then, when the Professors finally became fed up with all the useless chatter, everybody was sent to their respective dormitories. Goyle complained about his massive, still-not-full stomach, while Draco simply sneered, pointing out that the boy had previously inhaled a whole damn milk pudding by himself. If Goyle didn't go on a diet soon, Draco mocked, the boy wouldn't be able to physically pass through the Slytherin dorm entrance. This exchange sparked some not-so-friendly banter between all the third years, and soon, all thoughts of Sirius Black disappeared from Harry's mind.

Suddenly the Slytherin prefect marched into the dorm and announced that all students would be sleeping inside the communal Great Hall for the night, instead of their own beds. Most of the Slytherin students groaned, for they hated to separate themselves from their comfortable beds. One student demanded to know what had happened, and after a few inquiries, the prefect informed them all that apparently Sirius Black had been in the Gryffindor dorm and had almost stabbed Ron Weasley.

When they heard the news, all the third year Slytherins felt a bit of guilt and pity towards the red headed Gryffindor. It must have been beyond scary to look up and find a serial killer hovering over your bed, ready to stab you. This marked the starting point of the real end of the pranking war (contra wise, the many warnings issued from their respective Head of Houses had not proved a deterrent at all).

Harry, however, felt only disappointment. Why hadn't Sirius Black succeeded in offing that annoying red head? And how was it that Weasley had stolen _his_ personal killer/stalker? He was aware that he must sound crazy, so the green-eyed boy kept his thoughts to himself and voiced none of his concerns.

His dorm mates were busy positioning their favourite sleeping bags and ignoring everyone else around them. The Great Hall was soon filled with multi-colored sleeping bags, and Harry apathetically chose to settle in one of the empty bags that were lying adjacent his fellow dorm mates.

Yet, before he could fall sleep, Blaise shuffled over to him. "Want to sleep together for the night?" the other boy offered.

Harry blinked and scooted over; Blaise seemed to be very worried. They combined their sleeping bags by having Harry successfully merge them in order to make a double-sized sleeping bag.

"Why?" Harry asked, as both boys slipped underneath the covers. Blaise helped lift his back before replying.

"Because Sirius Black is here. It makes no sense that he aimed for Weasley instead of you… but I have no complaints about the situation. You are safe, and I intend to keep it that way."

Harry swallowed hard when he heard these words.

His heart in his chest had started to thump more loudly.

Especially when Blaise's arms suddenly slinked around and circled about his waist. In this position, Harry was far too warm. Being in Blaise's arms did not feel as comfortable as being Marvolo's lap, but it was still somehow bearable.

Blaise's slow breathing puffed rhythmically against Harry's neck throughout the night, making the smaller boy feel short of breath. He recalled the 'Stalker 101' article he'd read earlier that day.

Harry couldn't sleep much that night.

* * *

><p>Christmas was now just around the corner. One cold afternoon, Harry was seated in one of the Slytherin dorm chairs, next to his mates, when suddenly Malfoy opened his mouth.<p>

"Harry, before I forget. My father wants me to give you this."

He handed over an envelope that was emblazoned with the Malfoy family seal. Harry tilted his head as he opened the envelope.

"Yes, you are invited to our Manor, for our annual Yule Ball," Draco said quickly. "So, how about it?"

"Oh! How wonderful! Now we can all go together to the ball! And you will be spending time with Draco! It will easier for me to find you two!" Pansy exclaimed in delight, snatching the envelope from Harry. "If you want to, you can stay at the Parkinson manor with me the day before, and I can help you choose some party robes!"

Draco paled as he shook his head, inaudibly mouthing "D-O-N'-T" towards Harry as Pansy's back was turned. Harry giggled as he declined Pansy's offer. But suddenly Blaise spoke up.

"But you _do_ need someone to find you some nice robes. I know that for sure, no matter how lithe you still are, the acromantula robes I gave you last time won't fit you at all this year. My mother is planning to visit France this holiday. Why don't you come with me, and I can help you select some new clothes?"

Surprisingly, Pansy decided to support Blaise and she started to persuade Harry to go on the trip. At first, Harry declined, since Marvolo had already told Harry that the boy would be spending Christmas with Marvolo at his manor. But Blaise was so persistent, and Pansy could be very persuasive when she wanted to be. In the end, Harry was forced to agree to the arrangements—he would spend about a day, sometime before Malfoy's Yule Ball, with Blaise in France.

* * *

><p>Marvolo was, of course, less than pleased with the news.<p>

"You are not to go with the Zabinis," he hissed in displeasure as he gently combed Harry's hair. The boy had grown a bit since his thirteenth birthday, but not so much as to deter Marvolo from letting the boy snuggle in his lap. It was good that his Child had finally matured a bit; it wouldn't be nice if Harry stayed perpetually looking like a little girl. As much of a paedophile Marvolo was (although, of course, he would never admit it), he still preferred to show affection towards older teenagers.

The boy bit his lip. Presently, he was perched on top of the Dark Lord's lap, and Marvolo was milking it for all it was worth. The wise man who had once philosophized that owning a pet would provide the key to real relaxation was apparently very correct. Ever since Harry had started regularly visiting and spending hours curled up on his lap, Marvolo's temper had become quite relatively tame, and he'd even managed to get his work done more efficiently during these past few months.

He had, of course, tried to catch Sirius Black. Although he had personally seen to it that his Auror troops now received the best training, most of them were unfortunately still pea-brained imbeciles. After three fruitless weeks, Marvolo knew that this bunch of Aurors was still as hopeless as ever and that he needed to find another way to subdue Black.

Perhaps he should also consider removing the dementors altogether from Hogwarts, for Harry's sake. Presently, he was working on that. If he could have his way, the dementors would be returned to Azkaban by the end of the Yule.

Except that Dumbledore, being Dumbledore, fancied himself the exact opposition to Marvolo in just about every sense, and especially in everything the Dark Lord embraced. When Dumbledore found that Marvolo was trying to retract the Dementors, the Headmaster then personally appealed to the Ministry, pointing out that the dementors were still needed. It turned out to be a very exasperating day for Marvolo, for the Headmaster was completely going against the principles of his main duty—to protect the welfare of the Wizarding children—by insisting that the dementors, these unstable purveyors of fear and death, should stay in the school compounds. Just because the old bastard was anticipating that Marvolo was planning something evil.

In essence, Dumbledore had done a complete about-face from his earlier stance of opposing the presence of the dementors (a stance he'd established mere months ago, at the beginning of the school year). Obviously, the only reason Dumbledore wanted the dementors to stay in Hogwarts now was due to the fact that Marvolo was currently working on trying to banish them. Trust that petty old goat to decide that he always needed to fall on the other end of the political spectrum of Marvolo.

To be accurate, things had been like this ever since the day Marvolo had first appeared as a new half-blood student at Hogwarts, when Dumbledore was the Deputy Headmaster. Every time Tom Riddle tried to say or do _anything_, the old bastard would jump on him, accusing him of unscrupulous scheming.

Marvolo knew that the old goat obsessively wrapped his entire life around the notion that everything he did, from the time he woke up to the minute he went to sleep, was for naught but 'the Greater Good'. But Dumbledore was still human, and his perception of the "Greater Good" proved, at times, fickle. Who was he, despite all his age and experience, to ultimately decide what constituted the 'greater good'? Dumbledore was really nothing but an exceptionally old wizard. Although the man might have fancied himself otherwise, Dumbledore was for sure not the oldest Wizard who had ever lived, and arguably not the wisest. To Marvolo, Dumbledore was just very irritating, and Marvolo looked forward to the day he could blast the old goat into multiple pieces of burnt human flesh.

Marvolo was occupied with other matters as well, and thus was unable to pay any more attention to the issue with the dementors. He was having trouble coping with a sudden large increase in his followers; now that he was verifiably sane and clearly building himself back up to his former glory—as a powerful, cunning and amazingly charming leader—most of the upper-class Wizarding families were starting to finally follow his doctrine.

Furthermore, his fertility potion had proved a smashing success. The promise of securing the potion was highly attractive to prospective followers. Marvolo now had more loyal followers than he knew what to do with; additionally, said followers harbored familial debts to him, for being given the chance to successfully procreate. With the sudden proportional increase in pureblood children being born, Marvolo knew that he was cultivating a brand-new batch of loyal, junior Death Eaters, who would likely consider him a God.

His other side project, which consisted of mixing elements of Muggle-originated science and magic, had led to an astonishing—and, dare he say, frightening—invention. One slow afternoon, one of his scientists had started fooling around with radioactive substances and explosives, eventually creating a novel mixture of magically-enhanced explosives. Within the hour, he'd somehow accidentally set off his new invention. The laboratory was destroyed; every last piece of equipment in the room was melted, and five men were literally blasted apart. By the time the air cleared, nothing but dust remained.

Marvolo found these results most peculiar, as they had only worked with an absolutely miniscule amount of the substance, which he'd obtained from one of those secure buildings that the local Muggles referred to as the "military centre." The incident was quickly covered up, but Marvolo decided to permanently close off the laboratory when some of the janitorial house elves began dropping like flies within hours of cleaning up the space. However, he didn't have the place sealed off until after a grand total of ten house elves were reported perished.

Another researcher who dealt more with more medical-related Muggle / magic subjects explained to Marvolo that radioactivity was dangerous to living things. How exactly it was dangerous and why was not very clear to her yet—she was in the middle of deciphering the numerous, complex Muggle terms in their scientific journals. However, she warned Marvolo against pursuing any more research on radioactive substances, for fear of everyone's safety.

A reluctant Marvolo was forced to comply with her suggestions, but inwardly, he promised himself that he wouldn't wait very long. The sheer strength of that explosion had blown away nearly half an entire manor. It was the most powerful weapon he'd seen to date, and would be most effective in blowing up an impenetrable fortress, such as… say, Hogwarts.

Thus, Marvolo was more than eager to continue pursuing the risky research. He would, of course, implement more proper precautions this time around. He would attempt to re-create the 'safe' laboratory environment that normal Muggles used when conducting this type of research. He needed to set his plans into action soon, and of course the Imperius curse would prove most useful for this particular agenda.

All other business aside, Marvolo was also preparing for elections this year. He'd be endorsing Malfoy for Minister; the man was truly perfect for such a job. Malfoy was adept at getting the Winzengamot into his clutches, and Marvolo would silently support him with all his 'counsel' and 'advice'.

The only issue standing in their way was their opponents: Fudge, Crouch and Scrimgeour. The former was a fat, lazy, self-serving politician who was dead set on protecting his coveted status as the Minister of Magic. Crouch was the ex-Head of Department of Magical Enforcement. He had been well-regarded and favored in the Wizarding World, prior to a highly publicized, Death Eater-related incident involving his own son. Marvolo knew that Crouch Jr. had been loyal to him; it was such a pity that the boy was dead.

The latter was a veteran Auror who'd served his whole life in the military and regarded himself as the savior of the Ministry. His political tactic involved employing his militaristic beliefs in order to convince the public that what the Wizarding World really needed was to be ruled by an iron fist.

Out of the three, only Fudge had any real leverage in challenging Malfoy. Fudge was the current Minister, and although he was incompetent as a leader, he was still very good at manipulating current affairs to work towards his own advantages. And Fudge had a lot of say in what was printed inside the Daily Prophet, making it easier for him to control the many sheep-minded ignoramuses of the Wizarding World.

Marvolo harbored suspicions that the man was planning something big—something that would come out very soon, that would somehow turn the tides and make him popular enough to top Malfoy in the upcoming election. Marvolo wouldn't put it behind the man to use Harry in his schemes, and if such a scenario did occur, make no mistake: he would roast the man slowly. Nobody but nobody had his permission to ever touch or use his Harry.

Harry, yes. His Harry was the perfect little possession. Not only was he beautiful and powerful, he was the most important and beloved figure in the Wizarding World. Yet Marvolo was not attracted to Harry's public charisma—he himself possessed this in spades—he just wanted to make the boy his _own_. He wanted the boy inside his arms at all times, so that he could kiss those perfect, pouty lips. And inflict that adorable blush on Harry's cheeks.

And stick himself, slickly and wetly, into his little, _mewling_ Harry…

Sweating, Marvolo woke up. He had apparently fallen asleep with the boy in his lap, and while Harry didn't stir, Marvolo was quite physically uncomfortable. The man's erection was slowly hardening, and he clenched his hands at an attempt to dispel the arousal.

No, innocent little Harry was not ready for anything that sexual. His little pet was only thirteen years old, for Christ's sake. Moreover, considering his recent meltdown when he'd confronted the Boggart… no, Harry was nowhere near ready.

At that moment, the boy shifted in his lap.

Marvolo bit back a deep groan. The boy had moved his cute little arse directly on top of Marvolo's clothed erection, brushing against it.

_Stop. Think of Dumbledore naked_.

It worked like magic. His arousal became flaccid. Marvolo sighed in relief. True, he was happy that he'd regained control and had gotten his body back. He needed a face with a nose, after all. But he hadn't missed dealing with all the messy physical needs that came when one possessed a body.

Maybe this was a good time to use his followers again—pity, for Bellatrix was still in Azkaban. He'd need to find another witch to do his bidding.

Marvolo slowly stroked the boy's raven hair. Now, he needed to plan on how to eliminate that Zabini pest.

Maybe with a bit of _Crucio_.

Or… maybe, he could use the Italian boy's own mother.

* * *

><p>Comment? ...Or not. If you dont have anything positiveconstructive to say, then dont comment.

But please do if you want to thank me for a new chapter. Ha ha.


	23. Chapter 23

A revised version. Nothing really changed except tit bits and pieces.

Betaed- by Beta Blind_Alchemist, my dearest sister in everything by blood (If only I can marry her) hehehe.

Thank you very much for the many encouragement. Will try to do my best for every story I have. However, if you think you can help me, please add your idea in review/PM, or even make your own version. I would like to know/read what you think is add-able to this. I am at my last wit. Gah, I dont feel so creative anymore.

Enjoy!

* * *

><p>A week before the Yule ball found Harry walking beside Blaise, his mother Esme, and Marvolo, through the French Wizarding shopping district. Closely behind the group followed the Malfoy clan, consisting of Lucius, Narcissa and Draco. Draco in particular was busy listening to his mother's ramblings on the topic of currently in-demand fashion must-haves.<p>

It was all Marvolo's doing. Draco had suddenly extended his invitation to Harry for the entirety of the Christmas holiday. In the end, it seemed to make more sense for Harry to be 'invited' to Malfoy Manor for the duration of the Christmas holiday, as pretense for actually spending time with Marvolo at Riddle Manor. It was between that, or having Harry come to and from the mansion every day using the Portkey ring. And thus, Harry accompanied Draco for the shopping trip, but was afterwards Portkey'ed straightaway from Malfoy Manor towards Riddle Manor, where Marvolo was waiting for him.

Harry settled into his intended room. The room was decorated Slytherin-style, with green and silver motifs, and stuffed with elegant, vintage furniture. Harry settled easily into a comfortable routine and enjoyed his holiday—spending most of it playing with a blindfolded Annana, while reading old tomes and finishing his homework. He also tried a bit of blood magic—he simple ones of making a talisman using his blood. At times, Harry would also wield wandless magic in order to amuse Annana, by animating many golems and Transfiguring paper rabbits.

He scarcely saw much of Marvolo—the man was trying to condense his working schedule so that he could spare six full days to spend with Harry between the Yule and the New Year. They managed to have breakfast together every morning, which provided for both a much-needed recharge each morning so that they could face the day. Marvolo found that whenever he ate breakfast with Harry, his overall focus and patience improved for the rest of the whole day (truly, pets calmed people down considerably). In the meantime, Harry felt cherished—at least the man purposely spent each morning meal with Harry, and it was enough attention and love for the starved boy.

And there they were, three days after the start of the Yule holiday, standing in the middle of the French Wizarding shopping district. Harry's mind was whirling with the recommendations handed to him by both Blaise's mother Esme and Draco's mother, Narcissa. Marvolo had accompanied him, posing as Esme's new beau. Blaise was not surprised that his mother had acquired yet another new beau, but when he saw that it was _Marvolo_, of all wizards, a warning bell clanged somewhere within his mind. Something about Marvolo was very dangerous, and judging by how cautiously his mother seemed to tiptoe around the man, Blaise's trepidation only increased. Esme herself was a master of manipulation, but in front of Marvolo, she acted unlike herself—very politely and eager to please. Like a geisha with house-elf personality—_surreal_. It was a side of Esme that her son had definitely never witnessed before, and so he concluded that Marvolo was _not_ a man to be toyed with.

Blaise was accustomed to going shopping with his mother and her various new lovers, so he took his usual place right beside Harry, making himself the unofficial tour guide. Draco joined them not long after, trying to find a bit of solace from his mother's aggressive, fashion-related ramblings. When Harry turned backwards, he could see two adult couples walking behind them. Lucius looked bored while Narcissa was chatting about the new pearl necklace she had set her eyes on (a.k.a. dropping hints for her Yule present this year). On the other hand, Marvolo was walking in full regalia, with Blaise's mother proudly linking her arm with Marvolo's left arm. At one point, Esme tried to start a conversation with the current Head of Magical Enforcement, but Marvolo appeared uninterested, keeping his eyes focused on Harry. Harry noticed the intense stare and pretended he hadn't seen.

His chest felt oddly tight. He honestly didn't like the way Esme was hanging off Marvolo's arm. Didn't Marvolo working a lot to make sure he had time to spend just with Harry? Where did the promise gone?

But they looked so good together. Marvolo was so handsome and Esme was beyond beautiful. People stopped to stare at the couple. He tried to reason away this odd, foreign feeling of envy. After all, he essentially meant nothing more to Marvolo than an amusing pet. The more he pondered this, however, the more distressed he became. Half-consciously, Harry put his finger inside his mouth and chomped down; but then, almost immediately, his arm was pulled away by Blaise.

"Stop that, Harry. Don't hurt yourself."

_Why shouldn't I, _Harry wanted to retort, but, not wanting to cause a scene, he simply nodded. Blaise suddenly took Harry's arm and placed Harry's fingers around his own arm. "Grab my arm if you want. It's all right if you squeeze my arm as hard as you can. I prefer that to you biting yourself."

Harry nodded and seized Blaise's arm. Somehow the gesture actually soothed some of the tightness in his chest, and he began to breathe more easily. However, Draco had noticed the gesture, and he sighed.

"Zabini, don't tell me later on from now that I had never warned you against courting Potter."

Blaise haughtily answered, "Warning? Such vague details don't constitute a proper warning. Your "warning" was never viable, OK?"

They started to bicker. Harry remained silent as he watched them. When the families decided to go their separate ways, he meekly followed wherever he was directed. Lucius and Narcissa looked eager (yet still somehow, admirably stoic) to spend some quality time alone together, and Esme was looking flushed while pushing herself into Marvolo's arms. Esme was blinking at her son, giving the teenager the usual discreet physical signals that she wanted to be left alone with her new beau. Blaise understood at once, steering Harry and Draco towards one of the local tailors.

Draco managed to make his personal tailoring assistant weep out of frustration. His tastes were so particular and specific that every little detail that seemed out of place, irked him. By the end of the hour the blond teenager was surrounded by a large pile of rejected garments. Nonetheless, he was still bossily choosing from the most expensive materials available, for the custom making of his new formal robe.

Blaise chuckled while he helped Harry choose some new garments for winter. The boy was blushing adorably, adamantly refusing to purchase a new cloak, saying his old cloak was still perfectly wearable. Blaise couldn't help but spoil the boy, and so, ignoring Harry's protests, he took several high quality cloaks from the rack (Harry wouldn't let the personal assistant come anywhere near him to take any measurements) and persuaded Harry to try on all of them.

The (perceived) torture finally finished when Blaise decided that the evergreen, heavy cloak looked the best on Harry. After ringing up their purchases, they went to the shop next door, which sold many magical ornaments—shining memory orbs, Remembrals, crystal vials filled with snow flakes that would never melt, and so forth. It was more of a girl-oriented shop, but Draco decided it would be the perfect place to find his mother's Yule gift. Blaise agreed and caught Harry's attention by elbowing the green eyed boy when Draco bought a small snow flake pendant on a dainty gold chain. Clearly, the pendant wasn't for the blond boy's mother; the necklace was designed for a girl, not an elegant woman, and furthermore, it was a very popular girls'-accessory at the moment. Harry smiled as he realized who the present was for. Draco, despite his continuously nattering opinions of Pansy, actually held the girl in quite high regard—high enough to buy the girl a carefully selected Yule present.

The shopping spree lasted the entire day. At long last, the original group met up in one of the expensive-looking restaurants downtown. Dinner passed cordially enough; Esme and Narcissa dominated the conversation, while Draco and Lucius tried to contribute here and there, just enough to give Narcissa the impression that they were actually listening. Marvolo, however, was curiously silent the entire time, watching Harry and Blaise like a hungry hawk regarding a couple of mice. Blaise didn't notice at all. He was busy carefully selecting Harry's food, showing Harry which forks to use for what dish, while slowly encouraging the skinny boy to eat more. Harry, who looked inured to such treatment (as he had endured it at every Hogwarts meal) accepted it all in stride.

It was pure carelessness on Harry's part when he knocked down his cup onto his lap. The sweet dessert wine drenched the fronts of his robes, and despite Esme's immediate reaction to '_evanesco_' away the spill, Harry's shirt still retained an ugly, darkish stain. Esme then signaled for Blaise to take his friend into the washroom to clean up, and Blaise readily took Harry to the washroom.

Gazing into the mirror, Harry realized how pale he looked. When he'd knocked down the beverage, his mind had completely frozen. He knew he had made a mistake—he was beyond mortified, as well as terrified. Spilling his drink had been very embarrassing for sure, but the incident had also indirectly reminded him of how fortunate he was in his current situation. If he was still living with the Dursleys, such carelessness could be punishable by twenty lashes of the whip. And so he meekly followed Blaise's instructions and cleaned his shirt; Blaise seemed to know what to do anyway. But when Blaise started to touch Harry's shirt and inadvertently brushed against the boy's stomach, once again, Harry blushed adorably. Being touched was not exactly comfortable, but also not uncomfortable enough to be classified as the type of 'stalking behavior' as explained in that witches' magazine.

It was at that particular moment the washroom door opened.

Harry's head whipped around to see Marvolo standing behind the door, and suddenly Harry felt some kind of privacy-providing ward being erected around the three of them. Blaise wasn't as sensitive as Harry to magic, and didn't realize what was occurring. But he was definitely aware that Marvolo was inside the room, and as he turned, he addressed his mother's new beau politely with a nod.

But Marvolo's face was darkened with anger. Harry swallowed hard and unconsciously touched the ring on his finger, ready to Portkey out of the room if Marvolo suddenly decided to start inflicting _Crucio_. But he was not prepared for what followed.

Marvolo grabbed Blaise by the neck, pulling the dark-skinned boy off his feet into the air. Out of shock, Blaise began having trouble breathing. Marvolo's grip on his neck was that strong.

"Don't. Touch. What. Is. Mine." Marvolo enunciated each word coldly.

"Stop it!" Harry shouted, grabbing Marvolo's arm. "Don't hurt him, please."

At Harry's touch, Marvolo visibly struggled to calm down. "… He is your stalker, Child."

"No!" Harry shook his head. "No! He is my best friend. We're just best friends!"

Meanwhile, Blaise was turning blue. Sparing the Italian boy a momentary glance, Marvolo carelessly threw the boy onto the floor. The boy coughed hard, gathering himself, ready to retaliate, when Marvolo suddenly whipped out his wand and uttered, "_Crucio_." Harry watched, screaming silently in horror as his best friend writhed in unbearable pain. Sobbing, he gripped Marvolo's arm even more tightly.

"Stop it, please, Marvolo!" Hating what he was doing, Harry pulled his face into his most innocent, pleading, haunting, little-boy-lost look. "_Please_."

Marvolo looked down at Harry pleading at his feet. The boy looked so lovely, beseeching him like that, and Marvolo was half tempted to blackmail the boy into personally pleasuring him in his bed that night. Harry's ridiculously wide, liquid-green eyes didn't help.

But his common sense kicked in, dictating that Harry wasn't ready yet, and that he should take these types of things more slowly. Mercifully halting the torturing of the stalker might be more helpful in gaining Harry's trust and in strengthening their relationship. Finally, he relented, nodding and lowering his wand. He glanced at the battered boy, who was involuntarily spasming, and pointed his wand for the last time.

"_Obliviate_."

* * *

><p>Harry stood beside Marvolo as the man effortlessly slipped from one conversation to another. He watched as the older man, who had been holding himself back ever since Blaise's torture from days ago, talked about politics and policies and pleasantries so flawlessly. Harry knew that not one of the people Marvolo had been or was currently talking to would ever guess that Marvolo could <em>Crucio<em> them as easily as he could nonchalantly discuss the weather.

Harry was seriously uncomfortable about what had happened three days ago. After the initial shock had waned, the three of them had returned to their table, and Marvolo had then put up a very worried mask. He proceeded to explain to Esme that Blaise had suddenly experienced an epileptic attack in the washroom. Lucius perked up at the news, and he silently signaled for Narcissa to take Draco home. That awkwardly ended their shopping trip. Esme, desperately worried about the health of her only child, went to St. Mungo's with Marvolo. Meanwhile, Lucius volunteered to return Harry back to 'Malfoy Manor,' when, in fact, Harry was returned to Riddle Manor.

The boy was very troubled. First, Marvolo had clearly demonstrated his tendency and capability of torturing people—even young _teenagers_—without a second thought. Secondly, Marvolo appeared scarily adept at damage control. Marvolo was simply a master of manipulation.

He was also riddled with guilt. On some level, Harry had direct influence over Marovlo. Hadn't Marvolo listened when Harry had pleaded to him in the bathroom? But after all, Blaise had only gotten tortured because Harry had reported the boy's invitation to Marvolo, hadn't he? Thus, Harry convinced himself that he had to be directly responsible for Blaise's torture. And so, although Harry was happy at the thought that on some level, he mattered to Marvolo, he also hated himself for hurting Blaise.

Marvolo was capable of doing unsavory things, Harry knew all too well. But nearly killing and maiming his friend, just because Harry had told him that Blaise was making him uncomfortable? To be honest, Blaise had certainly never done anything to offend or wrong Marvolo; the whole business had always been between Harry and Blaise only. Harry had only been seeking advice on male friendship when he'd first reported to Marvolo what had happened between him and Blaise. Marvolo was thus by no means entitled to lay his hands on, much less torture and nearly murder Blaise. This particular trait of Marvolo's couldn't help but remind Harry of his uncle, although in Marvolo's case, it was worse—Marvolo brought that level of murderous violence to a much higher degree. Harry should have kept his problems with Blaise to himself. He shouldn't have told Marvolo.

The way Marvolo had been looking at him lately didn't help matters either. Marvolo had been looking at him exactly how his uncle had been looking at him before that _incident_. It triggered Harry's subconscious into putting up his guard. The sudden kiss Marvolo gave him in the bathroom after he obliviated Blaise was unexpected, and Harry wasn't sure about the reason behind that kiss was either. Why Blaise and Marvolo found kissing him acceptable? What _was_ a kiss, really? In his memory, such kisses were only given by Aunt Petunia to Uncle Vernon when they looked happy—some of the rarest time when they didn't realize Harry or Dudley was inside the room and showed their love to each other—and the point was, they looked happy. They enjoyed the kiss. Even Percy and Penelope looked like they were very happy they were kissing. And why, for Merlin's sake, Harry never felt that way when he kissed? Was it because… because he was a freak? Why would anyone want to kiss him in the first place?

And that's why he was so silent and meek, obediently following Marvolo's orders to remain 'by his side at all times', while closely watching Marvolo conduct his political dancing. Harry was, of course, introduced as the Boy Who Lived, and most guests eagerly tried to start a conversation with him; but Marvolo would swoop in and take over the conversations. Soon, Harry's presence was almost completely forgotten. From then on, he was treated solely as Marvolo's little arm accessory.

It was all well and good for Harry, because the boy didn't particularly enjoy talking with strangers anyway.

Then they met up the current Minister, Cornelius Fudge. Harry saw that the man was as bad at color coordination as Dumbledore. The man was wearing a purple, expensive-looking dress cloak, paired with red boots. "Dragon skin," he explained, before anybody even bothered asking. Clearly, he wanted to announce to the world how well-off he was. And when he spotted Harry, it was as though some kind of giant light bulb inside his head turned on.

"Harry Potter! Finally! It is a delight to finally meet you in person! I am one of your greatest supporters, you know!"

Marvolo tensed beside him, and Harry simply waited, half expecting the man to start taking over the conversation (as per with every other previous introduction). But the Minister was dead set on talking with Harry. He was relentless, continually interrogating the boy, while pointedly ignoring Marvolo. As the minutes ticked by, Harry actually began to fear for the Minister's and his own safety. The emerald eyed boy answered each question politely enough, but he felt Marvolo's arm around his torso tighten more and more.

The conversation quickly became stiff and awkward. It was obvious that the Minister desperately intended to gain Harry's trust and be on Harry's good side. He was pressing the boy for his support in the upcoming election, without actually saying the specific words. Fudge even tried to take Harry's hand at one point, presumably for a hearty handshake. Harry felt greatly uncomfortable as the man touched him more than necessary, at one point using one finger to circle the skin of his small palm. Marvolo swiftly ended the suspicious handshake by pulling Harry nearer to his side.

The conversation took a painful turn when Bartemius Crouch, another candidate for the upcoming election, joined the group. The air became very tense. Crouch started off by saying how the current Ministry was lacking in the area of strict law enforcement (thus, indirectly criticizing Marvolo of being a failure as the Head of Magical Enforcement) and added that the Ministry was forcing the Wizarding citizens to fund such an ineffective department by increasing the public tax rate (thus, directly criticizing Fudge's recent decision to increase taxes by 2%).

Fudge retaliated, declaring that the Department of Magical Sports and Recreation had not been very efficient in their duties. Crouch senior happened to be the current Head of Magical Sports and Recreation. Crouch pointed out that the upcoming Quidditch World Cup, which would be held the following year, would be hosted by the British Wizarding world, which clearly demonstrated that the Department was, in fact, doing very well.

The man went further, boasting about his perfect management skills, promising nothing but airtight safety and secure arrangements of the supposedly massive public event. Fudge snorted, asking the other wizard whether he was being too sure of himself, and then asked Marvolo for his opinion. Marvolo smiled politely and told Crouch that without the perfect support of his Aurors, the World Cup would be in dangerous disarray indeed. Crouch retorted that if the Aurors weren't doing their job, then the ultimate responsibility would fall on Marvolo as their Head.

Marvolo tightly smiled and assured him that the Aurors would be more than competent; after all, they were the guardians of the entire British Wizarding World, and so far, the Wizarding World had been a safe and pleasant place to live. Marvolo knew they couldn't refute the fact that ever since Marvolo had become the Head of Magical Enforcement, the crime rate had decreased substantially, making Marvolo look far better than the previous Head, Madame Bones. They were just unaware that this was due to Marvolo's tight control over the underground crime world, wherein he'd manipulated the system and its criminals to carry out their crimes undetectably and under the radar.

The conversation became more and more heated as Crouch realized he couldn't tamper Marvolo's perfect façade, and so he aimed to attack Fudge by pointing out how the Ministry's recent actions were, in fact, detrimental to the British wizarding economy. For instance, the Ministry's decision to raise tariffs had caused most of the prices of imported goods to increase, and a rift to form between the business relationships with other countries.

Fudge was in the middle of a retort when Lucius suddenly appeared beside Marvolo, interrupting the conversation in order to ask the handsome Head of Magical Enforcement to say hello to his wife. Marvolo quickly agreed, dragging Harry to follow Lucius. When they were out of earshot, Lucius whispered something to Marvolo. Harry couldn't quite catch his words, so instead, he watched their expressions closely. Marvolo's face contorted in disgust, but in the next second, he appeared calm. With a swift motion of his hand, he asked Lucius to wait for him. He smiled towards Harry, telling the boy to follow him.

While the guests entertained themselves and danced enthusiastically in the main Hall, Marvolo took Harry away and promptly put him in one chamber. The chamber was lavishly decorated; it was clearly not a simple guest room. The man told Harry to stay in the chamber until he returned. He firmly instructed Harry not go anywhere or talk to anyone. Harry nodded, pleased enough with the strange orders, as he was quite tired from being paraded around between the guests all night.

After Marvolo was gone, Harry wondered what he should do. It was then suddenly a house elf appeared in front of him.

"Master Harry Potter!"

Harry knew this house elf. He had seen him before.

"..Dobby, was it?"

The house elf's eyes bulged in adoration. "Harry Potter, Sir, remembers Dobby!"

"Of course I do." Harry smiled. "How are you?"

"Harry Potter is too kind!" the house elf started to sob. "Harry Potter is in danger here! Master should remain in Hogwarts!"

"May I ask why?" Harry settled himself down on the floor, so he could see the house elf eye to eye. The house elf stepped back, looking around and whispered, "This manor belongs to Master and Master is a bad wizard!"

Dobby then deemed it fit to smack himself on his face repeatedly. Harry tried to stop him, and both of them ended up in a tangled mess. Accidentally, his face was smacked by the house elf, and Dobby stopped hitting himself and saw the reddish mark on Harry's left cheek.

"DOBBY IS SORRY! DOBBY IS SO BAD!"

And with that, he disappeared with a pop. Harry rubbed his cheek, wondering whether he should run after the house elf, yet he didn't know where to go. So he let it be. His face will be healed very soon anyway.

* * *

><p>Peter waited tensely. He was seated inside the stone dungeon of Malfoy Manor, in a secret area where, about thirteen years prior, the Dark Lord would captivate large audiences before each Halloween. Peter had notified Lucius of his presence, hoping to get back into the Dark Lord's good graces by revealing to him his new plan to kidnap and torture Harry Potter.<p>

Peter had been pondering how to lure the boy from Hogwarts into the Forbidden Forest. Once inside the forest, Peter could corner the boy and turn him into a small rat. He would then take Harry the rat to his Master for further torture or death.

In his twisted mind, the fact that Harry was his friend James' son had been forgotten long ago.

Peter chuckled to himself, in a most rodent like manner, as he imagined how the Dark Lord would reward him for cooking up such a brilliant plan. He might be able to gain the Dark Lord's trust and become a more important figure within the Death Eater ranks. And then he would be able to acquire money, fame, and prestige, until he could establish his own House of Pettigrew.

When the door behind him was opened, Peter turned around, delight written all over his rat like face.

"Master! It's been so long, Master! Let me serve you!" he squeaked. Years of hiding behind his rat Animagus-form had permanently changed his vocal cords into those that resembled rodents'.

"I don't like it when my time is wasted. What is it that you request my audience for?" the Dark Lord asked coldly, watching the man in revulsion. Why he'd ever allowed such a disgusting little wizard into his group of Death Eaters was a mystery.

Oh, yes. He'd accepted the rat because he was an Animagus and the Secret-Keeper of the Potter family.

It was then that Marvolo realized one simple fact: Sirius Black was innocent. The traitor had been Peter all along. Marvolo had previously forgotten about the entire matter, simply because, in the grand scheme of his plans, it'd seemed so trivial and unimportant. Now that he'd had this epiphany, it was obvious that the rat man before him was the sole reason why Sirius Black had attacked Hogwarts, and the indirect reason why those Dementors were now roaming freely around the Hogwarts grounds, endangering the safety of his precious Child. Peter was also the indirect reason why Harry was having such difficulties accepting his inability in creating a Patronus.

With that in mind, Marvolo's temper started to boil over.

"…and Master! I can turn him into a rat and bring him to you, for you to torture at your leisure! I will present you with your worst enemy in a most weakened state, Master! I will bring _Harry Potter_ to you!" the rat continued to squeak. The mention of Harry's name proved to be a trigger. Marvolo snapped out of his reverie at the last sentence.

"Say that again?"

"Master, I can bring you Harry Potter's dead body!" the dirty rat-man chirped excitedly.

At these words, the level of Marvolo's anger increased by about a thousand-fold. He whipped out his hand and cursed the rat with the worst embodiments of Dark magic known to wizard. _Crucio_ was not enough; he attacked the man with the Blood-Freezing Hex, the Cutting Hex, and then, with a flick of his wand, burst apart the rat's internal organs. The rat screamed in pain all the while, while Lucius (who was in the next room) closed his eardrums.

Lucius snorted. He knew that Pettigrew had been digging his own grave when he'd gleefully informed the Dark Lord about his plans. Clearly the rat possessed rather low intelligence as well as general awareness of the whole situation. Anyone with a pair of eyes and ears could detect how infatuated the current Dark Lord was with little Harry Potter. Offering Potter's dead body up to Marvolo was the equivalent to begging for a painful, one-way ticket to Hell.

Marvolo, meanwhile, chuckled slowly in delight.

Oh, tonight he had definitely been restraining himself from killing certain people. People including the usual mindless aristocrats, the pompous politicians, and those idiotic followers that he kept running into. Everyone and everything seemed so boring and mundane. He was still carrying within him repressed anger from three days ago, at being refrained from killing that worthless boy. The boy had clearly touched his Harry inappropriately—he would know Harry's blush anywhere, and the boy had unmistakably been fondling Harry's stomach as well as the area below. But his Child had begged him to stop before he could blast the boy to pieces, and so he did.

But it was not enough for Marvolo. He needed to vent. To torture someone. To wreak the anger stemming from his sense of possessiveness and jealousy.

The pathetic, worthless Animagus writhing in front of him was clearly a good target for his frustration. Marvolo cursed him again and again, each time with progressively Darker magic, and was rewarded each time with a huge rush of adrenaline. In the meantime, between each thrust of his wand, he pondered.

He knew that sometimes he was too lenient on Harry. But Marvolo felt no qualms about it. After all, Harry was his only pet. A part of him, though, the old, annoying Tom, whispered in his mind's-ear that this leniency would prove his downfall, that the Child was the Dark Lord's one weakness. Marvolo shrugged the voice aside. He was convinced that Harry was no such thing. Harry was _his_ and his alone. If he couldn't keep Harry away from all the other prying eyes, then even his title of the "Dark Lord" was meaningless.

So, as he _Crucio_-ed the spasming body of Peter Pettigrew, he laughed to himself. Slowly, his body felt less and less tense, until he finally calmed down. The dumb Animagus had been preying on his Harry. It was unforgiveable. Listening to the painful screams and the tear-filled begging soothed his temper and ego.

At long last, he was finally satisfied. The rat had clearly entered a magically-induced coma; the pathetic excuse of a wizard was no longer able to open his eyes. Half his body had turned into what resembled his furry rat form, from a desperate attempt to escape. The torture had turned the wizard into some kind of horrible chimera of a half rat-man. Marvolo was in the midst of debating between finishing the wizard off or leaving the chimera-man be, when suddenly Lucius burst into the room.

The long-haired, blond aristocrat bowed. "My Lord, pardon me for interrupting, but Madam DeLacour is requesting for your audience for the next five minutes."

Marvolo decided that meeting with the French ambassador was more important than killing a stupid wizard, so he followed Lucius out of the dungeon, leaving the unconscious half man-half rat on the floor.

* * *

><p>When he was sure nobody was left inside the chamber, Peter slowly opened his eyes.<p>

Playing dead was one of his fortes, and it was good that he'd managed to make the Dark Lord think he was dead. He slowly changed himself into his full Animagus form and slowly licked his wounds. As he licked, throbbing everywhere in pain, he pondered how nothing had gone according to his plans. His Master was so angry at him, instead of being proud of him.

Carefully, Peter gathered himself and crawled out from the dungeon, into the cold air of the winter Yule night.

He didn't know what to do now, except to run far, far away with his life intact. He definitely couldn't stay anymore with the other Death Eaters, for fear of his life. His Master was back, but it seemed Peter's dream of gaining his Master's favour was just that—a dream. So he needed a new plan.

Slowly he turned back into his human form, trying to gently patch himself up. Functioning as an Animagus was his best skill, but his second best was performing Healing Charms. He had hurt himself enough times in his life to have perfected the basic Healing Charms.

Suddenly, he heard a sound coming from behind him. Peter quickly turned, just to see a man dressed in an ugly purple cloak and red boots, standing between the bushes.

* * *

><p>The holidays finally ended and Harry returned to Hogwarts alongside Draco and the other Slytherins. The day he returned back, Harry was called by the headmaster to his office. Feeling a bit forlorn and was not ready to face the man who sent him to the Dursley (Harry would never forget that fact), the boy walked slower to Dumbledore's office. In his mind, he was wondering all the changes he had since his first year. Now he thought about it, his aversion to Dumbledore has started from the headmaster's obvious preference to him and the information Marvolo told him about how the headmaster was the one who dumped him in front of Dursley's house. Harry the first year was so naïve that he believed Marvolo wholeheartedly, making Dumbledore became the first person he lashed out to.<p>

But now, when Harry had more time to observe and know Marvolo even deeper, he found out that Marvolo wasn't his guardian angel as much as Harry used to think. Dobby's weird warning sounded genuine, and Harry could see why Lucius and Marvolo were not the kindest people of society. Although Marvolo mostly told him the truth, Harry started to question until what length could he actually trust the man? The man was clearly very handsome and charismatic enough to charm many witches and wizards alike to do whatever Marvolo told them to. Marvolo has even caught Esme as his companion (although Blaise's mother stayed in St. Mungo to watch over his son and thus, missing the Yule ball) and Harry could see how perfect they were together. It made the boy wondered what made Marvolo kept Harry with him. He has nothing to give. And as much as Harry wanted to treat Marvolo as bad as the man treated him, Harry knew Marvolo has been the one thing in his life that actually provided some sense of stability in his current existence.

"Come in, my boy."

Harry opened the door. The headmaster was sitting on his headmaster chair, and beside him was a stand with a flaming red bird beside him. The bird was so beautiful, it enthralled Harry into somekind of bliss.

"Please come in, my boy. You can take the seat there. Lemon drops?"

Harry declined the offer and sat, all while still watching as the bird preened itself on the stand. The bird was a magnificent being with the shape of a flaming fire and beautiful features.

"That is Fawkes, my Phoenix." Dumbledore smiled. "He is very pretty, isn't he?"

Harry nodded. And he waited for the Headmaster to start. For a moment, nobody started to talk and the room was silent.

Dumbledore sighed deeply, showing how he was burdened by something. Harry just blinked, waiting for the talk on whatever the headmaster has deemed important enough to call him for.

"Harry, I heard that you went to the Malfoy Yule Ball last December."

Harry nodded. It was a well known fact, since the Daily Prophet went on the ball in quite detail and Harry's choice of outfit was analyzed until the details. Harry wasn't really sure what to think about it, since his outfits were all chosen by Marvolo.

"And I see that you were so close with Mr. Gaunt."

Harry's eyebrows raised and he tilted his head. Marvolo has warned him against this, and had given Harry the reason to give for anyone who was suspicious of their closeness. "Mr. Gaunt kindly accompanied me as a personal security guard."

"Right." Dumbledore nodded, slowly. "Did he… What do you think about him, my boy? What do you know about this Mr. Marvolo Gaunt?"

Harry wondered what he should say about it. "…he was a good guard."

"Do you feel anything when you were near him?"

Harry wanted so much to nod, to tell his headmaster how he was confused, scared, sad and flustered when he was beside Marvolo. He wanted to ask why Marvolo and Blaise kept kissing him. He wanted to know the reason why Marvolo was keeping him close. He wanted to know what Marvolo actually want from him. But no, Harry couldn't ask. Because the last time he asked these kinds of thought (to Marvolo, about Blaise's weird behavior), Harry ended up indirectly hurting someone.

So the boy kept his quiet, biting his lower lips. The headmaster seemed to have used up his patience, for he stood up and walked towards the boy. He actually squatted beside the sitting Harry and squeezed the boy's shoulder.

"Harry, I just want to help. Professor Snape is currently unavailable for you. I promise I am trying my best to help him. But in the meantime, you need someone to confide in. You can approach Professor Lupin or Professor McGonagall as she is the Deputy Officer, or myself. I really care about your wellbeing, my boy, and being too near to Malfoy family is not good."

"Why?" Harry whispered.

"Because Malfoys has the reputation of a dark family. They might seem to be very sincere of their help, but they always have their own objective behind all those nice things they offer you. I just want you to be careful, my boy."

Harry wanted to ask whether the headmaster himself was playing the kindness offer to gain Harry's favor, when the headmaster continued.

"I know that Professor Snape wouldn't want you to be too near to the Malfoys and the like. Please do this, for the sake of him, my boy."

Harry was silenced. He couldn't refute or agreed. In one hand, he just couldn't belief his headmaster anymore and always second guessed the headmaster. On the other hand, he couldn't say no to anything that concern Professor Snape's preference. Harry owed so much to his Potion Professor. Too much.

There were so many pressures from everywhere and no one guiding him, telling him what was happening and what should he react with. It was suffocating. Harry felt his chest constricted. He considering of biting his hand in the washroom again, but somehow the prospect of pain wasn't very inviting. He was tired, not craving for pain.

That night, before he returned to the Slytherin dorm in the dungeon, Harry went to the infirmary and stayed with the stiff body of his Professor until curfew. If only he could awaken the professor. If only he knew how to repay everything the professor has done for him. If only he was stronger. If only Harry was not as useless as he was. If only. If.

Grabbing the professor's hand in his, Harry started to cry in silent.

* * *

><p>Blaise had been released from St. Mungo's the day after the returning feast, having received a diagnosis comprising mental shock and a minor head concussion. His body was once again physically healthy, but it seemed the boy had suffered a short length of amnesia, and he would now experience killer migraines from time to time.<p>

Harry, feeling very guilty over Blaise's condition (and a bit lost and in direct need of an anchor), appointed himself as Blaise's personal nurse. He accompanied Blaise everywhere, as the boy walked more slowly now compared to their companions, and helped Blaise eat and drink at the welcoming feast. Blaise was grateful for Harry's assistance, while the other Slytherin third years quipped that some kind of role reversal had taken place between Harry and Blaise.

Draco remained silent throughout the whole endeavour, observing the interactions between Harry and Blaise with intense interest.

This continued throughout the second half of the semester. More often than not, Harry would be found beside Blaise as both of them would study/do homework/eat together. Gossip circulated around the pair, instigating a new social trend dubbed 'boys' friendship' fever (wherein pairs of male students would seemingly go out of their way to spend time with one another), which figuratively spread throughout the school. Many of the female students would stalk Harry and Blaise as the two boys closely helped one another. They regarded Harry and Blaise as the ultimate embodiment of the epitome of this 'friendship'. In no time, they became the most favorite conversation topic amongst self-identity conscious teenage girls inside the castle.

Harry was oblivious to all of it, of course. Had he known, he would have considered the entire business nothing but ironic. Harry himself was maybe the one person at Hogwarts with the least amount of experience and knowledge on what exactly constituted "friendship." He continued to help Blaise in every way, and without either of them noticing, the semester came to an end. Harry pulled all-nighters studying for his exams. He was very certain about the outcome of most of his exams, save History of Magic, when suddenly, in the last period, Professor Lupin called for him to stay back after his exam was turned in—for Theory of Defense Against the Dark Arts.

"Yes, sir?" Harry asked, while patting Moony. Professor Lupin smiled at him.

"I finally managed to obtain the potion. Can you meet me this afternoon, near Hagrid's empty hut, so that we may observe whatever your Animagus form will be?"

Harry nodded and smiled.

"Thank you, professor."

* * *

><p>The night was silent as most of the students were inside the castle, enjoying their last night before summer holiday. There were busy last minute packing spree, but since Harry would stay in the castle as was last year, so he was free from those stuff. He was supposed to be helping Blaise, but when the boy knew Harry was called by Professor Lupin for personal class, he urged his (boy)friend to go.<p>

Harry watched the green liquid in the vial inside his hand. It was the potion to determine his animagus form. It was rather scary for Harry, because the boy wasn't sure what his animagus form would be. And then what if he didn't have animagus form? Wouldn't that be embarrassing and disappointing for the Professor. Harry looked up to see the assurance from the Professor. There was only Professor Lupin in front of him, smiling encouragingly.

"Come on, Harry. You should try. When you drink it and feel something is tingling, let it flow. It is your magic slowly turning your body into your animagus form. We need to be quick, since you have a curfew and I don't want to risk meeting any dementors."

Harry braced himself and drunk the potion. It tasted horrible, something Harry was used to taste. He felt as the potion got in and was absorbed, and suddenly his magic soared strongly, as if it exploded. There was still some thin barrier containing his magic to not lash out, but Harry felt his chest burst, heart racing. And slowly he felt his body turned, morphed into something else.

Harry knew for sure he was a freak when he saw his Professor's face paled even under the dim light of full moon. He watched as the Professor pulled out another crystal vial from his robe pockets, and blinked hard.

"Ha…Harry. I am really sorry. I think… I think I gave you my wolfsbane potion."

* * *

><p>Next chapter is coming soon.<p>

For readers who had read this before, do you think I should just go along with my previous idea? I know it seemed forced, but I love to make Snape the hero. If you think I need to change, then give me a week to make a new plot line through this third book. GAH! The third book is not my favourite. Meh.

Thanks for reading!


	24. Chapter 24

Note: the lack of Quidditch cup in the third year is because of dementors.

Warning: betaed by Blind-Alchemist, thank you very much! Hehe.

Thank you for the review! Please keep them coming!

Anyway, enjoy! Finally, forth year! Long chapter is long. \(= _, =)/

* * *

><p>It is a funny fact of life that whenever one finds a kindred spirit, it is almost always expected that said individuals will inevitably click together like a perfect lock-and-key. And this was exactly what transpired that snowy Yule night, between the severely wounded Animagus rat-man and the bloke in the red dragon boots. Peter the Secret-keeper caught Fudge pissing on the tail feathers of one of the albino peacocks that lived in the Malfoys' sprawling garden. In turn, the current Minister of Magic simply stumbled upon the wounded, half-dead person lying on the grass, who was sporting numerous grave wounds.<p>

Although it was an awkward way to meet, they ended up chatting somewhat more comfortably back at Fudge's. Peter made himself comfortable himself on the guest bed while Cornelius Fudge, who was seated in a chair across from him, calmly sipped tea as he watched his own personal healer work tirelessly on the old, dirty looking rat-like man.

Fudge was not exactly a gambler; allowing Peter to seek refuge here had to benefit him in the end somehow. Maybe he just wanted to hide the fact that he loved to mess with those damn albino peacocks—somehow it never failed to stroke his ego; to be able to piss on one of the pureblood's beloved pets and get away with it, showed he was still on top. Or, maybe the fact that the rat-man was supposed to be dead—and yet here he was, sitting in front of him, apparently still alive— meant something was wrong. The whole thing smelled like scandals and secrets that Cornelius might be able to use for his own political agendas. It sounded like a better reason anyway.

And then, it seemed all of Fudge's suspicions were validated when Peter Pettigrew finally opened his mouth and offered a verifiable gold mine of sordid secrets and other dirt concerning Lucius Malfoy, the Death Eaters, and— Voldemort. Cornelius could feel his mind clicking so fast, faster than it had ever computed anything in his life—he was always good at keeping track of and recording various scandals and possible opportunities of blackmail—as the tidal wave of information spilled from the lowly man's mouth.

All of a sudden, it seemed like he would win the next election for sure now.

* * *

><p>"Ha…Harry. I am really sorry. I think… I think I gave you my Wolfsbane potion."<p>

The boy couldn't quite make sense of the sentences coming from the Professor's mouth. The experience felt so odd, as though the man in front of him—no, the _wolf_ in front of him—was talking gibberish. What was that? Who was Harry? Harry? What was Harry anyway?

The boy growled and looked downwards, realizing that he was occupying the body of a hairless, exotic-looking animal. He had no idea what he was supposed to be. He had smooth skin, which was clothed by some kind of comfortable material, but hanging awkwardly around his body. And when he touched himself, he yelped as he felt his newly-developed claws tearing the soft, thin membrane of hairless skin. Surely something had gone wrong. The only part of his body that had retained a substantial amount of hair was his crown, and he felt long strands dropping down his face! Furthermore, instead of having a nice, long nose and muzzle, in place of his old face there was only some kind of squashed, deformed button, topped off with a weird, flat mouth! It was beyond aggravating!

The boy growled and blinked as the moon in the sky became more and more defined, opening herself to the world that night. As the moon became more majestic, the boy felt his magical core warming and spreading throughout his body—it felt warm, ticklish and comforting, the best kind of magic—inviting him to open up, inviting his magic to let go. To be free. It was such a delirious thing and yet, so exhilarating. The boy started to howl.

"Harry!"

The boy growled in annoyance. The weird human in front of him was disturbing his ritual to the moon—and then suddenly he saw that the human was not a human—the "human" was a wolf as well. And it seemed as though the wolf recognized the boy as his pup. The boy blinked. He wasn't aware of any family he might have. But after thinking about it, the boy decided to ignore his "parent" for now and focus all his attention on the moon, releasing his magic to match the majesty of the silver Selene.

* * *

><p>Remus Lupin knew he had made probably the worst mistake of his life.<p>

Not only had he given his pup the wrong potion, now the moon had emerged, forcing him morph into his wolfish form. But this was the least of his concerns, as he witnessed what his Godson had turned into. In place of the small teenager with the startling green orbs and the pale face, stood a freakish combination of a half man, half wolf. It seemed that Harry's upper body had sprouted wolfish features while his bottom half had stayed the same.

Harry was still standing—he'd managed to retain his bipedal abilities—but his posture had gone soft, hunched over in a stance that seemed ready to lunge out at any moment. His hair had lengthened so much it literally draped around his face. And those shiny green eyes now resembled the classic yellowish orbs that all feral werewolves shared.

In his panic, Remus somehow managed to calm himself down enough to start thinking rationally. He knew he needed an immediate remedy. Wolfsbane potion should be toxic to normal humans; but once consumed, a human should be able to retain their normal mind, while their body underwent a werewolf transformation. Before taking action, Remus should first take in and observe everything that was happening.

He concluded that Harry had turned into somewhat wolf-_ish_. It was the most peculiar response he'd ever seen to a Wolfsbane potion, for Remus had never heard of such a reaction. But clearly his godson was no longer in possession of a human mind and somehow, the wolfishness inside Remus's heart was whining to be released.

_To meet his pup._

"Harry?" Remus tried again, while attempting to fight off the painful transformations occurring inside his bones. No, he must think, think, think, and quickly! "Harry!"

The boy growled, as though he couldn't comprehend what Remus was saying. Ignoring the professor, Harry turned to watch the moon. Something—a strong aura, perhaps—was released from the boy towards the silver ball in the sky, spilling over into their immediate surroundings and making the DADA professor feel weak in the knees.

Summoning the last dregs of his courage in order to counter this tidal wave of passion, Remus once again desperately tried to induce damage control; but as his own body morphed, he knew his efforts would be futile. He had no Wolfsbane, for Harry had drunk it; now he would change into a werewolf without a conscience. It had been so very long since he had transformed without being able to retain his human mind, and he had no idea what would happen now.

Merlin, he'd really messed up so badly. Now, he could only wish and hope that him in his werewolf-form wouldn't wreak any havoc on the castle grounds, or hurt Harry. It was the last thought on his mind as the pain of transforming began to consume most of his attention. He growled a long and hard snarl.

The last thing he could remember as a human was the feeling of being surrounded by the comforting magic all around them, blessed by the Silver Selene herself.

* * *

><p>Sirius Black was shocked out of his mind (and he could proudly vouch that nothing could shock him that much anymore, to be honest) when he spotted the two creatures stopping in front of the bonfire Hagrid had made for him.<p>

The giant was off to meet Aragog the Acromantula for some kind of creepy, nostalgic get-together, and Sirius had begged to be pardoned from such a meeting. He knew that if he were to go, he wouldn't survive the night. While Hagrid was still viewed as an honourable guest by the Acromantula colony, such formality was not at all extended to Sirius, who was spending more and more time in his Animagus form (apparently Hagrid was less likely to suspect him whenever Sirius was in his Animagus form—bless the kind soul of the half giant, who was loving towards any animal. Plus, staying in form as the sure-gaited "Padfoot" was more beneficial in terms of navigating the treacherous terrain of the unforgiving, depressing, and scary Forbidden Forest).

And there he was, enjoying the warmth from the fire while laying himself on the bed of dried leaves he'd constructed earlier (well, he could settle for the second best things in life for now) when suddenly two creatures jumped towards him from the thick hedge of bushes.

Padfoot's canine senses worked extremely well and in an instant he recognized one of them as Moony—_Remus_! They had spent so much time together in school that Sirius knew that Moony would recognize him in his Animagus form as well; but the creature standing beside Moony appeared at first to be a stranger. Foreign, yet not unfamiliar. Honestly, he knew that scent from somewhere. But what he saw in his canine form (which, unfortunately, came with colour-blindness) appeared vague and indistinguishable from the typical Forest creatures.

The creature growled and jumped forward. Padfoot immediately responded by trotting backwards and growling menacingly. Moony meanwhile, looked weirdly docile. But when Moony saw how Padfoot—_the dog, he knew the big canine, he knew it! He was a pack member_—was threatening his pup, Moony growled menacingly back at Padfoot, warning him.

Padfoot was shocked (again! What a weird night—he'd had more shocks in this one night than in the past year! But of course, nothing could shock him inside the isolated depressing cell of Azkaban) that Moony was actually _growling_ at him. What was happening? Distracted, Sirius was caught off-guard as the weird foreign creature attacked him, glomping his back. Padfoot whined when the sudden weight clamped down on his body; but he was in for another surprise as the weight suddenly shifted and the creature started to sit on him, as though riding a horse. It would have seemed almost funny and adorable, if only Sirius wasn't the horse and the creature wasn't such a creepy looking weird chimera-thing.

Moony came forward and sniffed at the two of them; Padfoot whined pitifully at the werewolf. Meanwhile, the creature rubbed itself onto Sirius' head and giggled. The sound was like a cross between a grown-wolf's bark and a kid's giggle. It was then that Padfoot realized. The creature must be Prongs's pup! Their smells were so similar, and no wonder Padfoot had initially recognized the scent, because he had met the boy last time in the Forest!

Padfoot barked once, and the creature stepped off from the Grim-like dog. The boy then sat beside Padfoot and played with his own draping hair. Moony sat beside them, and started to lick the creature's face gently, lovingly.

_Pup? _Padfoot asked.

_Pup, _Moony assured Padfoot.

The pup growled softly but let himself be licked by Moony, and after a few minutes, Padfoot as well.

* * *

><p>In the later parts of his life, Severus would never admit it, but he woke up in the most undignified manner.<p>

He felt as though a very comforting presence was calling him towards the light at the end of the tunnel (so clichéd), when suddenly, instead of being softly and gently pulled forward, the force calling him turned hostile and yanked him roughly. Severus opened his eyes and his entire body jerked about so violently, he fell from the bed.

Groaning, Severus opened his mouth. His throat was so raspy and dry, and he discovered that he had absolutely no energy to pull himself up. He tried to lift his head, but every movement was so taxing. How long had he slept? And why did he have such a murderous headache—all of a sudden, his stomach started to growl.

Fortunately for his body (and unfortunately for his pride), Madam Pomfrey came into the room at that particular moment. She was supposed to check in on Severus one last time for the night, when she heard the sounds coming from the room and eventually found Severus lying on the floor, on his stomach, limbs splayed everywhere. The entire room was filled with a loud, grumbling sound.

"Severus!" the matron laughed happily as she went over to help the Potions Master. Madam Pomfrey helped lift Snape, fussing over the man the whole time, while trying to answer all the questions Severus was directing towards her. To hear that he had been in coma for almost a whole year was beyond shocking for Severus, and he wondered what had happened to the world around him, as it had gone on turning without him.

The matron patiently answered all his questions, assuring Severus that everybody was doing well, that Slytherin was doing just fine, Slughorn was fine, and—Harry was fine. Severus fell silent upon hearing this, and then he suddenly asked Pomfrey, once again, just to make sure that Harry was really "fine." Pomfrey smiled patronizingly, assuring Snape that the boy was being taken care of very well by the teachers, especially by Remus. She added that she had witnessed how all the Slytherin third years had bonded over their concern for the green eyed boy and their prank war with the Gryffindors. But when she mentioned the word _prank_, her face suddenly turned sour, making Severus realize that perhaps, due to his long absence, the Slytherin house was no longer as Slytherin-esque anymore. The matron then told Severus all about the infamous "prank war" between the two opposing Houses, and complained begrudgingly about how irresponsible those children were being. The whole while, she was also checking Severus' body over and over, massaging his stiff muscles and administering more stimulants so that Severus could regain control over his motor skills.

Severus listened quietly to the older lady, while slowly regaining control over the muscles in his neck, shoulder and hips. He then tried to move his arms, and although he wasn't able to wriggle his fingers very freely, he was at least able to rotate his wrists slowly.

Finally, the matron left him alone, after telling the Potions Master to drink a Sleeping Draught that had been spiked with muscle relaxant, in order to fall into a relaxing, dreamless slumber. Severus nodded and watched as the night outside turn into dawn, for the matron had been massaging his muscles for the past 5 or 6 hours. Madam Pomfrey was adamant in leaving only after shaving Severus's beard, and to be honest, Severus found all her services most helpful. He disliked having unshaved facial hair. He might have greasy hair and an overall rather unhygienic look, but he wanted his face to be clean, always. After all, how could he intimidate the brats in his classes if he couldn't show them his horrifying frown? After he was shaved, he watched as Madam Pomfrey's back disappeared down the hallway. The lady needed her rest as well, and Severus was very thankful for all her work.

He was trying to relax, watching the sun rise from his window with his sharp eyes, when he suddenly jolted upwards. He'd spotted some suspicious-looking figures rummaging around in the Forest. He had immediately recognized Hagrid from his size. What was the man doing there? Wasn't he supposed to be in Azkaban? Severus tried to stop himself from leaping to conclusions because, after all, he had been dead asleep for the better part of a year—and goodness knows that was enough time to allow anything to happen, for circumstances to change very dramatically.

The man lounging beside Hagrid was one he could recognize to his dying day—it was Sirius Black. Almost choking on his own saliva in surprise, Severus then realized that the heir to the Black Manor was cradling a smaller body in his arms. Hagrid seemed to be cradling someone as well, and both bodies were unconscious.

Severus rubbed his eyes, shaking his head. His wand was lying peacefully beside his bed, but in his current condition, with such poor coordination over his hands, Severus wouldn't dare use it and risk any magical mishap. When he finally was able to focus a bit better—also, Hagrid and Sirius were now walking _towards_ the Hogwarts grounds—Severus managed to glimpse a clearer silhouette of the two unconscious bodies.

They belonged to Remus and Harry.

Severus felt the blood in his veins turning into ice. What was happening? Why was Sirius holding Harry like that? Why was Harry unconscious in Black's arms? And the werewolf Remus also looked a bit beat-up, as though he had transformed the night before… was there a full moon last night?

Before he could react, Severus saw a set of three ragged cloaks flying came towards the group. They were slow in speed but sure and steady in pace. Severus realized at once that it was the dementors. And he could only look on, horrified, as the two men—Hagrid and Black—began to shiver. Hagrid and Black were quickly petrified, frozen to the bone, and each fell to the ground, dropping Remus and Harry's bodies respectively in the process.

Severus needed to take action. However, as he tried to grab his wand, his fingers wouldn't listen to the panicked signals coming from his brain, and the wooden cylinder dropped noisily to the ground. Severus groaned in frustration, desperately whirling his eyeballs about, looking for something else to help.

The dementors caught up with the group and Severus nearly cried out. What would happen to his Harry? He couldn't care less for Sirius, Hagrid or Remus. Well maybe he was a bit worried for Remus, but his biggest priority at the moment was Harry. And to be helplessly stranded on the bed, watching as the damned dementors swooped in and circled the group, was too much for the man to bear.

Biting his lip hard, Severus turned his body around and for the second time ever since he woke up, he fell to the floor. Snape felt his face smack forcefully against the cold floor, but he was too tense to notice any pain. He looked about and found his dearest wand lying inches from him. He willed to call it, trying his hardest, damn hardest to get the wand towards him. With the sheer power of will, he managed to_Accio_ his wand. Once the familiar piece of wood was inside his hand, Severus concentrated on the memory of his happiest childhood moment, and called up his trusty Patronus.

The silvery bat appeared from the tip of his wand and flew away quickly towards the flock of dementors outside the castle. Although he couldn't follow its trajectory, Severus sweated as he tried his best to maintain a mental connection with his Patronus; it was all he could do in his current disabled condition.

His efforts were able to produce most welcome results just as Madam Pomfrey once again entered his room. She panicked immediately as she saw him lying on the floor yet again.

For the rest of that morning, the matron became an overbearing mother hen, especially when Professor Flitwick (who was on guard duty) brought in the unconscious bodies of Harry and Remus. To avoid any more unnecessary attention, the matron decided to put both unconscious patients inside the private room Severus was occupying.

As Severus glimpsed the two other unconscious patients lying in the two beds beside his, he felt a clenching motion in his heart. He'd managed to save them, at least. Madam Pomfrey announced that their unconscious bodies had been found lying at the front gate of the castle, and there was no proof that they had gotten kissed by the dementors. Furthermore, three empty dementors' cloaks were found crumpled up beside the little boy. Severus cared nothing about Hagrid or Black, and he didn't even bother to tell anyone about the ambush he'd witnessed. But as he watched the slow rising and falling of Harry's chest, watching the boy sleep so deeply, Severus felt a quiet kind of relief and pride.

He'd managed to save Harry. Maybe he was too conceited to say aloud that he alone had saved Harry from the dementors, but he was sure that without his Patronus, the dementors would have feasted on the three men and the one boy, and Flitwick would have found four 'kissed' bodies, instead of two unconscious bodies. He had managed to do something for the boy.

With a smile on his lips, Severus finally allowed himself to rest.

* * *

><p>That day, Hogwarts released her children back into their respective families through the Hogwarts Express. It left all the teachers and one third year (soon-to-be-fourth) boy inside her. Harry was on his feet soon enough, explaining to his friends and professors that the night before, he had been having his usual Animagus lesson, when everything suddenly went blurry, and he couldn't quite remember what happened afterwards. When Remus finally woke up, about 24 hours later, he gave everyone a clearer, better explanation of the night's events, which baffled even Dumbledore with its sheer peculiarity.<p>

When Severus finally got a grasp on what had really happened, he managed to formulate a hypothetical reason for Harry's unique transformation. Perhaps Wolfsbane, which could bring out the human-derived traits in werewolves, could, for some wizards, also induce the reverse—these dual reactions were similarly caused by adrenaline. Adrenaline was one of the hormones produced by the brain that was used to control the impulses of the body—for example, adrenaline was responsible in controlling one's "flight or fight" reaction to frightening stimuli. However, whenever such a response was triggered, the homeostasis reaction would also be activated, which in theory should be able to balance out the sudden excitement caused by the influx of adrenaline; i.e., calm the body down. If Severus' hypothesis was true, then the effect of homeostasis occurring in Harry's body was able to overcome the normal toxic reaction and instead induce the opposite—half-way turning Harry into a werewolf.

Of course, the hypothesis could not be tested. Nevertheless, Severus was sure that this was what had occurred. Albus, on the other hand, believed that it was just one odd incident that would only happen to Harry. The boy was special like that. Especially since the boy's magick was so strong that he was much more susceptible to stimuli than more normal wizards. They were deep in discussing what had actually happened, when Dumbledore suddenly stopped responding to Severus's questions. Severus raised an eyebrow as the old man grabbed Harry's hand and looked upon it closer. Severus wasn't sure what the Headmaster was doing, and then suddenly a ring appeared onto Harry's fourth finger. The ring had been unnoticeable moments before; it must possess some kind of strong, 'notice-me-not' charm.

"Harry, my boy," the headmaster asked in a voice that sounded as though he were choking, "that ring of yours… may I see it?"

Harry blinked twice and quickly hid his hand behind his back. "I am sorry, Professor. I don't think I understand what you mean. I don't wear a ring."

"My child…"

Harry brought out the hidden hand from behind his back and presented it to Dumbledore. This time, his fingers were devoid of any accessories whatsoever. Severus knew it had to be a childish trick, of course, and Harry clearly had quickly hid the ring somewhere else on him. And Dumbledore was thinking along the same lines.

"No, my boy, I clearly saw that ring on your finger… it may be a dangerous artefact, so I need you to show it to me."

Harry shook his head. "No, Headmaster. I don't have any ring."

"Harry…"

"May I please go?" Harry suddenly asked, biting his lip. "I want to see Professor Lupin before he leaves the castle on holiday."

The big, emerald-coloured puppy eyes were impossible to resist. Dumbledore sighed and admitted his defeat, smiling softly. Severus truly thought that at that moment, Dumbledore looked just like any typical old grandparent, who was unable to defy their precious grandson's pleading for an extra helping of pudding after dinner.

"Yes you may, Harry. Run along."

The boy nodded and mumbled his thanks before dashing from the room, as though he couldn't stand to be in there another minute. Dumbledore returned his attention to Severus and sighed.

"Maybe I am too soft, or perhaps I am getting too old for this. I feel the need to indulge him."

Severus sneered. "Maybe it is the guilt you carry, Albus, since you had condemned him to a childhood that makes my own look like Christmas."

Dumbledore stopped smiling. "I know that the boy went through some regretful times, but I still believe that it was the best way to keep Harry safe."

"That is your biggest flaw, Albus. You always think that you know what's best for others."

"Can we _please_ not argue about this again? I've been chewed out enough by you and especially by that Minerva." Dumbledore produced a can from inside his robes. "Lemon drops?"

Severus rejected the offer, and the Headmaster changed the subject and started to inquire after Severus' well being. Soon afterwards, he broached the topic that he was dying to know about—what had transpired between Severus and the Dark Lord that fateful night. What treacherous deed had Severus done to make Voldemort deem it worthy to personally torture Severus inside the walls of Hogwarts? This made Severus wonder whether Dumbledore was actually worried about him, or worried about what this might mean for the 'greater good'. But Severus wasn't really fussy either way, because he knew that ultimately, he needed to protect Harry from the Dark Lord, and Dumbledore was the only one who could offer some kind of real protection.

* * *

><p>Marvolo was incensed.<p>

The day started like any other weekday, boring and filled with the mundane duties that come with Wizarding politics.

The Ministry was very busy at the moment. Not only was the long awaited Quidditch World Cup tournament just around the corner, a petition was being circulated by Fudge, which focused on reviving the long-defunct Triwizard Tournament. This proposal was currently being viewed by the Panel of Education as well as by the Headmasters of several selected schools, but Fudge seemed most eager to push up the proposal. It was clear that he wanted to boost his administration in time for the next election. If he managed to successfully revive the discontinued Triwizard Tournament, Fudge's name would be associated with another great accomplishment, and he could use this victory to compete against Crouch's managing of the Quidditch World Cup. Both events were predicted to increase Great Britain's (currently not so good) profile in the eyes of the other magical nations. And this proposal, as well as the preparations for the World Cup, instilled in the Ministry a sudden burst of excitement as well as a surge of high expectations for an interesting year ahead.

The two events were hard to match side-by-side, and Lucius' legal and political advisors were trying to come out with a plan to upstage the grandeur influence of said events. However, it seemed that Lucius himself was above competing using such bombastic strategies, and aimed instead for a more level-headed scheme. Marvolo himself agreed with Lucius' idea of silently following the two events and then taking advantage of the undoubtedly high profile of Britain in order to increase the strength of Britain's economy. In other words, Lucius would start his campaign with the intent to increase international trading and create new opportunities for employment, by effectively using the sudden boost in Britain's international grace (brought on by Fudge's and Crouch's hard work), and thus killing two birds with one stone. While most of the Wizarding Britain population loved Quidditch and adored the opulence of any given international tournament, the working class (and thus, the people who actually voted) would inevitably choose the chance to receive a better long term livelihood.

The complicated politics always made the Dark Lord want to just simply go around and _Avada Kedavra_ every random person in sight. Obviously he couldn't. These societal rules existed obviously in order to protect the Wizarding people, but also created chances for idiots who undeservingly possessed charm, looks, and persuasive talents to rise to the top and somehow become world leaders.

Marvolo wished that it was the weekend already, so he could meet with his beloved pet. The pet was currently cooped up inside Hogwarts. Marvolo's initial plan to lure his pet out of the castle under the guise of a friendly invitation to the Malfoy Manor had been rejected by Dumbledore. Apparently Snape, the rightful guardian of Harry, had miraculously awoken from his coma, and it was more natural for Harry to be spending time with the guardian. A dismayed Marvolo felt he should have just killed Snape when he had the chance. But that aside, the first weekend after the start of Hogwarts' summer holiday was just around the corner, and thus Marvolo waited eagerly for the return of a precious little pet on his lap.

He was busy greeting the people around him, maintaining his charming image as the perfect Head of the Magical Enforcement Department, when suddenly he found Kingsley Shacklebolt situated in front of his desk. Shacklebolt thrust forward a folded parchment.

"You are officially under arrest and will be held in the custody of the Ministry until such time for further interrogation, Mr. Gaunt," Shacklebolt enunciated in a tone that meant business. "We received an anonymous notification that you possess a second, hidden identity. Due to the serious nature of this accusation, we are hereby required to interrogate you under Veritaserum."

"Good morning to you too, Shacklebolt." Marvolo maintained his cool smile. He was surprised, but upon receiving this unexpected news, he felt nothing but irritation. "What specific sort of accusation is being held against me, such that my interrogation must be conducted under Veritaserum?"

"That is classified, sir," Shacklebolt answered quickly. Marvolo's right eye twitched, but he maintained his composure, as well as his calm smile.

If only he were at home base. Shacklebolt would be feeling the loveliest implications as the newfound target of his newly acquired Muggle-torture techniques.

"Pray, tell me then, why do you assume you have the authority to detain me due to some unfounded, anonymous accusation? The tip is anonymous and I am technically your superior. Surely I have more credibility? Hasn't my clean record showed that my best intentions lie only in the Ministry's best interests?"

Shacklebolt, despite quaking in his boots at the knowledge that his superior was less than happy with him (and, if Dumbledore were to be believed, he was actually opposing the Dark Lord himself one on one), calmly opened the parchment and showed Marvolo the signature. It had been signed by the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge. Marvolo blinked. Fudge had clearly demonstrated how lowbrow he was, by using his own power to bring down his political enemy. Also, Fudge's signature showed how confident the current Minister was that he wouldn't be connected to this matter.

Marvolo sighed. Maybe assigning himself as the major power behind Lucius' candidacy had been a mistake after all. He should have stayed quiet and manipulated the Ministry more from the shadows. It seemed that Fudge was of the opinion that if he brought Marvolo down, Lucius would then lose his primary support and would be out of the running for the next Ministry election. Especially since currently, Marvolo's personal influence inside the Ministry was more prominent compared to Lucius' superficial influence that stemmed from bribes and internal collusions.

And so he followed Shacklebolt down the hall, silently concentrating on strengthening his perfect Occlumency walls—after all, Veritaserum was no threat to a Dark Lord.

* * *

><p>The interrogation cleared Marvolo of any and all accusations. Marvolo had returned to his office by midday with a crystal clear record and was able to continue his normal duties for the remainder of the day. However, Marvolo could guess the exact nature of that potentially devastating accusation, and who was behind it.<p>

Clearly, someone within his own ranks had slipped some kind of hint to the Auror department regarding his second identity as "Lord Voldemort." The accusation had surprised him, but he quickly denied everything. During the interrogation, as he was under Veritaserum, they believed he was telling nothing but the truth, and thus the interrogators had let him go after apologizing profusely for suspecting their own superior.

The experience had been enough to flare the temper of the Dark Lord, but as Marvolo Gaunt, Marvolo smiled and waved the matter away, even praising the Auror questioning him for correctly following protocol—even though Marvolo was his superior, clearly the man displayed integrity in rightfully interrogating all potential suspects. Marvolo then spent the rest of the afternoon maintaining his image as an amiable superior, while stealthily planning his next move.

Fudge clearly wanted to die. But who was his cohort? The cohort had to be someone who was somewhat familiar with Marvolo, had seen Marvolo's own face, and knew that he was the Dark Lord for sure. Lucius and most of the pureblood Heads were out of the question—Marvolo had a gauge on where their loyalties lay after they had pledged their undying allegiance to Marvolo after receiving fertility potions. It left him with one main, likely suspect.

Dumbledore.

Marvolo blinked and grimaced. The old goat—always him. Marvolo knew it. Maybe it was time to finally eradicate the old nosey wizard. Marvolo knew that he would take great pleasure in torturing Dumbledore when the time was ripe.

* * *

><p>Harry tried to subdue his excitement, but he couldn't. The crowd around him was very lively and it was the first time in his life Harry had ever gone to such a festive, carnival-like event.<p>

Around him were magical tents of various shapes, colours and sizes. Some were so unique with the displays of their own towers, flags, fountains; there were even some Big-Ben styled clocks in front of several tents. People were laughing and walking about everywhere, and they were all talking in many different languages that Harry had never heard before. There were many vendors as well, selling everything from food to clothing and accessories to support either Bulgaria or Ireland. Kids were running around, screaming to each other, participating in their own version of Quidditch matches using their child-sized brooms. Adults were either placing bets, chatting with each other, or trying to keep watch over their scattered children.

The boy unconsciously grabbed the folds of his guardian's robes tighter, and he didn't realize when his Potions Professor looked down at him in amusement. The boy's eyes were shining, and those red lips were parted in wonder. He looked so excited, yet he calmly and obediently followed his guardian.

Despite the cheery atmosphere, in the back of his mind Severus knew that he was taking a huge risk by bringing Harry to the World Cup. But the free VIP tickets sent to them by Draco were too hard to resist. Harry had looked so forlorn when Severus first told him that they couldn't go due to security-related reasons. Apparently Draco's letters had managed to dazzle Harry earlier that week about the awesomeness of the Quidditch World Cup. When the rest of the remaining Hogwarts professors caught wind of what was happening, each of them individually begged Severus to let the boy go. There was nothing to worry about, they insisted, and they even offered to go as well, if not to protect Harry from any possible threat or harm. Even Dumbledore came to Severus to reassure the Potions Master that he could create a special secure Portkey that would transport Harry and Severus straight to Hogwarts if anything happened. Furthermore, the Headmaster told Severus that there were some rumours circulating inside the Ministry that Marvolo Gaunt was being detained due to some suspicious activity linked to a possible second persona—that of the Dark Lord himself. Although many refused to outright believe the news, the rumours were strong and persistent enough to convince Dumbledore that the Dark Lord wouldn't dare cause harm to or approach Harry.

However, Harry wasn't the only one posing a security risk. Severus was sure that the next time he met the Head of the Auror Department, a.k.a. the Dark Lord himself, he wouldn't be spared. The concern actually was very valid, and Dumbledore spent one morning mulled over the possibility of assigning either Minerva McGonagall or Fillius Flitwick to accompany Harry. However, the note sent by Malfoy had specified that Harry was to be accompanied by his legal guardian—Severus. If he didn't come with Harry, the tickets would be invalidated. Thus, the dilemma.

It was then that the Malfoy family's eagle suddenly dropped a letter addressed to Severus on the breakfast table. The letter had been penned by Lucius, clearly asking (begging, really) Severus to bring Harry. It seemed that Lucius really needed Harry to be there. His reason was that Draco wouldn't stop nagging him, but Severus knew the Malfoys better than that. Maybe the Dark Lord had some influence in this matter as well. Curiously, Lucius had even promised to ensure the utmost safety of both Harry and Severus. It raised a red flag for both Severus and Dumbledore, and yet the hurt-puppy look given to them by Harry was too hard to ignore.

And thus, there they were, gulping Polyjuice potion every hour to mask their real identities. Harry had taken the image of an eight year old ginger boy with shining green eyes, while Severus assumed the figure of a plump, middle-aged, raven haired man. They were posing as father and child. They'd arrived just hours before the match started because they didn't want to wander far from the stadium—they planned on heading straight to Hogwarts at the end of the match. However, Severus wasn't sure what to do if the match went on for more than two days (which was very possible when it came to typical international Quidditch matches).

"James," Severus sneered as he spoke the word (he still hated the name so much, but it happened to be the name they had elected as Harry's temporary alias), "are you having a good time? Do you like it here?"

"Yes!" the boy shouted with real joy, just to close his mouth a second later and repeat himself, more calmly this time. "Yes, daddy."

Hearing the word made Severus feel warm in the chest. Somehow he became very mellow. And maybe just this once, he could allow some lenience in his behaviour and indulge the child in some harmless enjoyment.

"Do you want anything to eat or play with?"

The boy looked up in surprise. Harry never had heard such question directed to him before, not in such context. It was almost as though his professor were asking him to choose something he might fancy, just for his own indulgence and not out of necessity. It was a question his uncle and aunt had always asked Duddley, and never Harry.

"…Can I, really?" the boy stared in fear and also hopefulness. "Can I, daddy?"

_That word_. It must be that particular word that magically melted Severus' stern personality into that of an indulgent parent. Severus blamed the word so much upon realizing that he'd just bought Harry a magical telescope, a living miniature of Victor Krum, some packs of Chocolate frogs, Fizzy drinks that turned Harry's hair into blue for several seconds at a time, and two new shirts, one of which flashed "Ireland!" And the other which flashed "Bulgaria!" He realized he had spent almost fifty Galleons on those shirts alone.

When they finally reached their VIP box, it was already filled with Draco, Blaise and Narcissa. It seemed that Lucius was absent— Severus sighed in relief. Draco watched suspiciously as the two strangers entered his box, and was ready to complain when Harry's features suddenly returned to normal.

"Blaise!" Harry called happily and ran towards them. "Draco! Thank you for the tickets! This is so much fun!"

"Pleasure." Draco smirked _ala_ Malfoy while Blaise stood and pulled Harry into an intimate hug. Narcissa raised her perfect eyebrows at the gesture, but she quickly caught herself and welcomed Severus. The group then settled into their respective seats. Severus watched out from the corner of his eyes how happy Harry looked, showing off his purchases to the other two boys. The Zabini boy looked amused by the burst of cheerfulness coming from the boy as Draco also showed his golden telescope to Harry.

Severus then looked around and found that the VVIP box which housed the match commentator, the Ministers of Magic from England, Bulgaria and Ireland, as well as most of the important politicians from each country, was situated directly opposite them, on the other side of the stadium. Severus wanted to let a breath of relief when he saw that Marvolo Gaunt was seated beside Lucius inside that special box. It was then the match started and the Bulgarian mascots came into the stadium—the infamous Veela.

Severus quickly put up his Occlumency shields to block out the allure of the Veela—but it seemed that he was part of a tiny minority of males who could control themselves. The Malfoy bloodline actually retained some degree of Veela genetics due to past generations of mixing—and thus Draco was unaffected by their charm. The Zabini bloodline naturally held some genetic Succubus traits, which allowed Blaise to stay calm, even though he was unable to take his eyes off the first Veela in line (who was flying around, attracting many males' attention to her). Harry's reaction was interesting, because he looked _repulsed_ by the Veela.

"Are you alright, Harry?" Draco asked.

"…What are they?" Harry asked, grimacing. "They look like a flock of shrieking, red flaming birds. And they are quite horrible in general."

Severus and Narcissa raised their eyebrows while Blaise and Draco stared at each other. Was Harry telling the truth? It was a myth that Veela could assume the shapes of flaming red birds which could control magical Veela fire, but it was just some myth, and typically the most a Veela could do was change into an ugly bird. Harry definitely looked like he had no idea what a Veela exactly was, but his description matched the teachings of the ancient myth perfectly.

The moment was short lived, because then the whole Bulgarian team entered the stadium with Victor Krum leading the way as their main star. Draco yelled his support of Krum while waving his Bulgarian flag. Blaise booed the team instead, because he was a fan of Ireland's team. Harry laughed in amusement at their antics and waved a flag that his 'daddy' had bought for him.

The Irish mascots that entered the stadium next, the Leprechauns, proved another intriguing sight. As Draco and Blaise playfully collected the shining Galleons thrown by the Leprechauns, Harry wondered aloud why they were trying to collect leaves. Was that another tradition he was ignorant of, Harry inquired, that Leprechauns loved to spread leaves around and that the humans needed to collect the leaves?

The question was never answered, because the Ireland team entered the stadium next, and the match started.

Soon the boys were busy watching the match in earnest, with Draco commenting on every single action that Krum did and Blaise counter-commenting on Ireland's continuous scoring. Harry was too involved in the mechanics of the game to comment; his eyes were glued to the telescope as he replayed everything again and again. Severus let himself smile a little, for somehow he'd managed to make Harry very happy that day.

And then suddenly, a shadow fell over them as someone entered the box. Severus snapped his head back in time to watch the Dark Lord and Lucius entering. The famous Zabini widow was also there, hanging from the Dark Lord's arm.

"Severus," Lucius greeted the Potions Master, and when Snape immediately stood and grabbed his wand, the Dark Lord waved his hand.

"Sit down, Severus."

The Potions Master then felt an enormous and suffocating wave of magick emitting from the Dark Lord, concentrating around his throat, making Severus unable to breathe. Narcissa realized what was happening, but before she could open her mouth, Lucius' stare shut her up. Esme was looking bewildered at the strange turn of events, but then Harry's voice suddenly cut through the atmosphere of confusion.

"Stop it, Marvolo! Don't hurt my daddy!"

"Harry, it's been a long time." The Dark Lord smiled, and dared Severus say—adoringly, before the Potions Master felt the pressure around his neck being lifted. It was only then the other two Slytherin boys realized that Lucius and his company had just joined them. Draco stood and greeted his father, as well as the Dark Lord by his public name, "Mr. Gaunt," and Blaise's mother. Blaise did the same, and stood to show his mother her seat.

"…Your _daddy_?" the Dark Lord continued in amusement. "_Him_?"

"Yes!" the boy quickly rushed to Severus' side. "He just recovered from a terrible sickness, so I would prefer you not to further hurt him. What is wrong with you anyway!?"

"Pet…" the Dark Lord hissed, "Is _he_ the reason you haven't visited for the last couple of weeks?"

Harry blushed and looked away. Upon hearing Marvolo's accusation, to state that Severus was feeling shocked was an understatement.

Why was the Dark Lord insinuating that he and Harry had been holding weekly meetings? Why had the Dark Lord addressed Harry as "pet"(!) and how on Merlin's sacred balls had Harry been able to speak in such an intimate, angry tone at the _Dark Lord_? Clearly Harry had no idea who he was talking to. Apparently Severus wasn't the only one shocked by the revelation, as Lucius looked just as surprised. They were the only two men inside the box who knew of the Dark Lord's real identity. On the sidelines, Narcissa and Esme were watching their men closely; they had gossiped previously about how weirdly intimate and possessive Lord Gaunt had acted towards Harry Potter during that last Christmas shopping trip.

Meanwhile, Draco watched the scene in amusement, as though he'd previously predicted everything that was happening. Next to him, Blaise was suddenly overcome with a very painful headache, and he stumbled to the ground with a cry.

Harry appeared quickly at Blaise's side and physically supported his best friend until they'd reached the nearest seat. The boy had become used to being Blaise's physical therapist during the last half year. Esme was quick to help her son as well as Narcissa. Cowardly Lucius, however, only looked fearfully at the darkening face of the Head of Magical Enforcement.

"Harry," the Dark Lord hissed. "Come over here and sit with me."

"I won't let you." Severus stepped in.

The Dark Lord turned to Severus in fury and the Potions Master felt a familiar tugging on his arm. It was the usual magical tug that the Dark Lord used to punish and torture those who bore the Dark Mark. But Severus was not in pain, as he now lacked the Dark Mark. The Dark Lord looked surprised as his expression turned suspiciously sour, and suddenly Harry came towards the Dark Lord and grabbed the man's sleeve.

"Marvolo, _please_," Harry whispered. "_Please_ stop. _Don't_."

The Dark Lord looked down at the boy who was so small the top of his head reached only his chest, and suddenly waved his wand around. Severus braced himself for an onslaught of pain, but it never came. It seemed that the Dark Lord had instead created some kind of privacy charm to cloak around himself and Harry only.

Severus' eyes widened in horror as he saw the Dark Lord gently caressing Harry's cheek—and Harry somehow responding to, leaning in towards the caresses, closing his eyes as Marvolo's knuckles ground against his cheek. They acted as though this were routine, as though the child were used to this kind of treatment. Narcissa squalled happily and Draco smirked at the sight. Blaise, however, watched the scene through a heated glare, as heated as his mother's jealous stare. Severus turned towards Lucius, wordlessly demanding an explanation, but the man was so interested in the scene unfolding before them that he wasn't able to catch Severus' eyes.

The boy and the Dark Lord talked amongst themselves; however, there was no sound of conversation. It was terribly ironic that the most famous and popular event of the entire year, the Quidditch World Cup, was being furiously played out behind them, with a stadium full of people cheering loudly, while inside the VIP box, everybody was far more interested in watching the Boy-Who-Lived talking with the Head of Magical Enforcement.

Narcissa giggled beside Esme, "I told you! There is something going on between them! A forbidden romance involving a young protégée and his older male bodyguard, perhaps? Lord Gaunt played Harry's personal bodyguard in our Christmas Ball after all!"

Severus had been taking out the emergency Portkey with fumbling fingers when he heard what Narcissa said. He felt a facial tick developing. What had happened while he lay helplessly in a coma? How could Harry have been invited to the Malfoy Ball, and how on earth was he being escorted by the Dark Lord himself? What else was Albus hiding from him?

Narcissa then continued in her gossipy voice, "Oh come on, Esme, don't be jealous. Harry is just a fling; obviously, you are Lord Gaunt's lover now!"

BOOM.

The privacy charm had been evaporated. Out of the VIP box strolled the Dark Lord himself, and it was obvious with each step that he was brimming over in anger. Harry stood there, face crumpled and breaths uneven. Lucius nodded to his wife and followed the Dark Lord while he stalked out of the box, while Esme looked torn between following her lover and staying with her son. Eventually, she chose to stay with her son, but she glared furiously at Harry while tending to her only child. Blaise looked as though he were trying to simultaneously deal with his painful headache and hide his jealousy. The mother and son pair never looked more similar to one another.

Nobody seemed interested in watching the match anymore; when suddenly it was announced that Krum had caught the Snitch. So the game was over and Ireland had won with higher score. Draco moaned loudly, before the whole stadium suddenly shook as though there was an earthquake.

Everything stood still for a second before the Dark Mark was launched into the sky, and then the screaming started. People panicked as they tried to escape the stadium, only to find that everyone else was rushing in the same direction. Chaos erupted.

Severus quickly grabbed Harry, and at the same time Draco grabbed his mother. Both of them activated their own respective Portkeys and the Zabinis soon became the only ones left inside the VIP box.

* * *

><p>Explanation:<p>

1. The three dementors were gone partially because of Severus' patronus, but also because of the Peverell Ring. I choose to have the three Hallows as the Death's gift, leading to Master of Death Plot.

2. Harry still does not know that Marvolo is the Dark Lord. I hope I dont confuse you with that.

3. Because Snape has awakened, Harry found it hard to sneak to Marvolo's manor. also, Harry actually felt kind of scared to go. so he hasnt go for the last few weekends, and thus, Marvolo's bad temper.

4. I am sorry if Narcissa seemed too giggly in here. I have no reason other than writer's selfishness.

5. What else... do you think it would be fun if Krum comes into the equation of Marvolo-Harry-Blaise? E hehe. \(=v=)/

Thanks for reading and reviewing! (If you want me to reply, please tell me so, or maybe you can PM me as well. Thanks alot!)


	25. Chapter 25

This is the longest chapter so far, I apologize for the length. I got too carried away. If you have read this, there are some minor changes, and better flow, better grammar, etc, so I welcome you to enjoy it again.

WARNING: TRIGGERS, Non-con/almost rape, defiling, violence and the usual dose of angst.

Now, please let me explain.

Firstly I want to thank all of you readers who had send me reviews/PMs and supported me/telling what was the problem with the chapter. I really thank you for that, and as I said, the reviews list for this chapter had became some sort of support group forum. I am very honored and also very embarrassed for all of you had seen another meltdown.

I am not some writer with the strongest mentality. I had gotten quite a number of reviews such as those throughout the year (the worst was when they managed to make me cry for at least 6 hours) and while writing this story, I counted (and deleted) at least 10 of such reviews. It was shown in a psychology experiment that one negative opinion outweighs ten positive ones, and I guess it is true. We focus on the negative stuff and ignored the positive ones. What made me take down the chapter was the sense of failure. I feel like the standard is dropping, and I felt this a few chapters ago (I think around chapter 20 and 22).

Grammar wise, I was not really putting too much effort because (1st) I am not a native speaker, (2nd) I guess as long as I can be understood then it's fine, (3rd) balancing many language's rules is really hard. I don't mean that I ignore the beauty of English language's rule—in fact, I am still learning and happily learning. Compared to me a year ago, this is a vast improvement. So for people who keep saying my (and other author's) grammar are bad—do you, truly, think that you have the perfect grammar? Do you think that by saying other people have worse grammar than you, gives you the right to look down at them? What give you the right to criticise other's grammar? Have you actually stop and think, maybe, for once, that the grammar you think is right was the wrong ones? Because to be honest I am already in university level—professional, even, since I have already published 2 scientific papers on neural injury—and frankly, being told my grammar 'sucks like I am not even writing English' made me raise my eyebrows. _Really_?

And about Harry's unclear mentality, well... how clear is one's mental state? Can you tell me 100% what you feel about yourself in one given moment? I have so many trails of thought I couldn't stop thinking (and hence, insomnia). So it is accumulation of several reviews and factors, and so not only because of one review.

So I apologize for making you worry.

All the love and thanks to my beta for she had saved me (and went beserk for me), as well as putting my mind at ease. Ah, I am loved :) by all of you (you, anon, are included, whoever wrote the review last time. At least you managed to read till chapter 25, bravo!).

Last word: Enjoy!

* * *

><p>Although he was thrilled that he'd gotten to watch the most important Quidditch match of the year (and <em>live<em>, to boot), Ron Weasley was not very satisfied with how his day had gone. His father had been able to afford only the very cheapest of the Quidditch tickets. Furthermore, Arthur Weasley could only take the smallest two of his four children, so in the end only he, Fred, and Ron went. Ginny was so mad after losing the draw that she threw her worst tantrum yet, and alongside this spectacle, George (who'd also lost) sulked. But Fred and Ron were too excited to care—they had won the tickets fair and square! And thus, there they were, watching the match from the cheapest (and the worst) places in the stadium.

They were on the bottom row of seats—the area was so cramped, smelly and dark. Everybody was standing, and so they stood too, for they couldn't see anything if they sat down. Ron could only see so much of the match from this vantage point—using his cheap telescope, he could only see mere speckles of flying brooms. Moreover, he had to share the telescope with Fred, so the two of them constantly fought over who got to monopolize it. And Ron lost his chance to watch a nail-biting Snitch chase, led by the Bulgarians, when Fred elbowed his ribs and took the telescope away.

He felt it then.

Ron was sure that he wasn't imagining things when somebody groped his arse from behind. The boy cursed; he was sure he had done nothing to warrant such sexual harassment. But when he turned around, despite seeing nothing of interest, he heard the unmistakable sound of someone vomiting. That marked the end of his sexual harassment experience. After waiting a moment longer, Ron scowled, realizing that the groper had actually lost his or her interest in him after seeing his face. How insulting.

Ron had always been vaguely aware that he wasn't the most handsome of the Weasley bunch, but at least he was not bad looking. Yet when Ron realized that he was getting angry because the groper had apparently found him unattractive, the boy scowled again, this time in anger at himself. He should be happy that the groper stopped. Being groped was not something to be proud of.

Honestly, though, when he thought about it, he would have preferred to be in the reverse role, especially for one raven haired Slytherin with the most beautiful eyes and the lithest body. Now _that_ arse was to die for. Pity, though, that the arse was also being watched over by a most ferocious Slytherin Guard-snake. And to think that Zabini had done what he had done to Potter… Ron felt himself blushing.

_Focus, focus!_

Ron scolded himself for thinking such thoughts. The problem was that he couldn't keep his mind off the kiss he'd witnessed last year between Zabini and Potter. They looked so good together, and Ron was sure that if he weren't there, Potter would have been absolutely devoured by the Italian boy.

It was Potter's fault, being so defenceless and naïve at his age. It was his fault for being so easily hoodwinked and used by the cunning Zabini snake. Yet whenever Ron imagined Potter's reactions to Zabini's advances, he felt the blood rushing towards his lower regions… and since he was a very healthy teenager boy, he had relieved himself many, many times on that particular memory (and that small stretch of his imagination) alone.

In fact, it was his favourite fantasy, his version of 'happy time'. Potter would be moaning in pleasure while underneath Zabini, and suddenly Zabini's form would melt away to reveal Ron in his stead…

The boy idiotically wiped away the thin string of drool hanging from one corner of his mouth. Thinking about Harry Potter always made Ron jealous—he was sure the boy was at the match as well, in the best stadium box, somewhere above where he was at that moment. He was sure Potter had managed to purchase the best seats, if not using the money from his own vault, then having his 'boyfriend' Zabini gladly covering him. And maybe they were shagging together shamelessly in some dank corner of the stadium instead of watching the game, as a way for Harry to thank his "boyfriend," and thereby wasting their expensive tickets.

_They should have given their tickets to me and gone to fuck somewhere else!_

It was then that Ron came to terms with his innermost, most secretive desires. After having that frank discussion with his father many months ago, Ron had slowly begun to realize that he was not so much angry, or hateful, towards the Slytherin boy, as he was disappointed. Ron had actually long dreamt of being the famous Harry Potter's "best friend" at Hogwarts. He had planned on becoming Potter's best mate, and in his head, they would be known as the Dashing Duo from Gryffindor. Potter would share everything with him, all his secrets, and Ron would eventually become popular and well-loved in his own right.

But in reality, Potter had ended up in Slytherin, befriended the Slytherin boys, and had gotten chummy with Zabini. Additionally, Ron had been shocked to find Potter to be so lithe and fragile. In his imagination, Harry was a tall, manly, heroic and friendly guy who was loved by all, but who returned only Ron's affections. In reality, Harry was a beautiful boy, adored by all, and who absolutely loathed Ron.

Where had everything gone wrong?

Half an hour later Ron Weasley was grabbing hold of his pants, cursing, and hurriedly running through the surrounding thickets. When he was sure he was alone, Ron unbuttoned his trousers and relieved himself on the grass. He was extremely peeved: he'd been hit by the sudden urge to pee in the middle of the most important Quidditch match of all time, only to discover there was a severe lack of public restrooms. Apparently only the higher class booths were equipped with their own restrooms, provided by the Ministry. Ron cursed his clear preferential treatment. Did having more money really make you better than others, somehow?

It was then that he was struck from behind. The last thing Ron saw (as he lost consciousness) was his wand being handled by a shadowy wizard. The man was laughing in delight.

"_Thank you for your wand, boy_."

* * *

><p>Harry felt himself stumbling forward, and he ended up falling face first onto the cold floor of the dungeon. The boy quickly stood up, while rubbing his nose to ease the stinging.<p>

"Harry, are you alright?" Professor Snape loomed over him, deep concern written clearly all over his face.

"Yes da… _sir_. I am fine." Harry tried to hide the massive anxiety he felt ever since talking with Marvolo, for now the charade was over and they could return to their normal statuses as guardian and charge.

It had been fun, really, to call Professor Snape 'daddy'. It had made Harry feel a bit like one of the "normals," if only for a moment. Especially since Professor Snape had played the role of 'daddy' uncannily well, generously pampering Harry with so many gifts and indulgent purchases…

Harry's eyes widened. "The telescope! The shirts!" He turned around and realized they were missing—and the familiar feeling of despair hit Harry like a ton of bricks. He had lost the presents he'd received from Professor Snape during his first year, as Duddley had lit them up and burned them. Now, he'd lost his newest gifts due to his own carelessness. Always, _always_, Harry was so dumb and idiotic and useless, how else could he be so careless as to lose what he had been given…

"Don't mind that, Harry. _Things_ can always be replaced," Professor Snape solemnly told the boy. Harry looked up, still feeling guilty. Could those gifts really be replaced? Was it truly that easy? Was this a "normal" concept, or was what Snape said only true because they were given to Harry, the worthless freak?

"I am sorry, Professor." No matter what the Professor said, Harry knew he'd made a terrible, clumsy mistake. It felt as though everything he did was always wrong—what was wrong with him? His life was getting better, and it might have already reached its zenith—his life at this point might be as good as it would ever get. Harry had even forgotten about his previously strong wish to die—he had honestly started finally enjoying himself. Sleeping on Marvolo's lap, pretending to be Professor Snape's son, jesting with the other Slytherin boys, assisting Blaise like a role-playing Healer; he was experiencing a life he'd never even dreamed of. It felt like only yesterday he'd first entered Hogwarts with a single-minded wish to find death, and now here he was, standing and moping about a lost telescope.

Harry knew he had changed a lot since his first year. Otherwise, he wouldn't have been able to actually argue with Marvolo like he had. Oh, he was still a useless freak, but at least now people didn't seem to point out his uselessness or freakishness as often as before. But whether he was happy with the changes, he wasn't sure. It seemed that everything was much simpler when he kept wishing for death. However, the continuous wishing for death had led to Harry realize how pathetic he was being, and so the sudden, fierce desire to be stronger, to be more Slytherin-like, was henceforth sprung. His resolve had plunged Harry, the boy who used to be completely single-minded about searching death, into a stir-crazy, endlessly cycling, mental cyclone of abstract and pointless thinking—each and every obsessive detail of his days constantly filled his mind and the boy was spared no time to even blink. And all the emotions that existed outside of despair, sadness and desperation—those were new and foreign to him. It was honestly, quite tiring to… live.

The fight with Marvolo had been so sudden, so out of the blue—Harry really didn't know what had set the man off. Marvolo seemed too absolute in Harry's life for Harry to risk his wrath. On the one hand, thanks to Marvolo, Harry had been able to experience a type of happiness he'd never felt before. He was starting to take for granted the fact that he wasn't expected to wash dishes or clean the washrooms anymore. He knew he would be allowed to eat even if he behaved badly.

But on the other hand, was this happiness worth it, if this life brought some degree of uncertainty, and not to mention, fear of losing that happiness? After all, everything was harder to give up once one has experienced the sweet taste of happiness.

Harry stared at his Professor. The older man used to hate him, Harry was sure of it, but now he was one of the very few individuals Harry could honestly believe in. Oh, Harry could still count the number of these individuals on one hand; namely Blaise, Professor Snape, Marvolo, Annana, and the Hogwarts house elves. Whether they reciprocated his feelings, Harry wasn't sure. But the feelings he held for them clearly harmed the boy in some way or another. Harry still remembered how devastated he was when Professor Snape got hurt, how upset he was when Blaise was attacked, and how he was currently feeling sick because… because Marvolo was clearly angry at him.

"Harry, please sit down. I'll make us some tea and then we can chat for a bit." Harry meekly followed the Professor's orders and sat on the sofa. His stomach felt sick and cold; he was brimming over with anxiety. Harry had almost forgotten what pain felt like. _Pain_ used to be his baseline emotion, yet Harry had forgotten how it was to be in constant pain. Life had turned out good for him. Too good—he had turned soft. And that was how Harry, being the freak he was, always managed to sabotage himself. Harry only thrived in misery.

His stomach ache was getting worse. All this pain, all from his previous conversation with Marvolo; the man's display of evident anger was still fresh in Harry's mind.

"_Why, child?" The question was simple, but Harry knew perfectly well what Marvolo was insinuating. Harry hadn't visited the Manor for the past two weeks._

"…_Dad…I mean, Professor Snape managed to wake up, and he kept me close to him these past two weeks. I couldn't come up with a good excuse to…" Harry bit his lip, simultaneously enjoying the man's touch on his cheek._

"_If that's the case, then it's easy, child. Let me dispose of him, and you'll be able to easily return to me." The older man smiled and the pressure increased on Harry's cheek, forcing the boy to lift his face, the hand now forcing his jaw up. Alarmed, Harry paled as Marvolo's light brown eyes stared at him, concentrating at him._

"_No! Please, Marvolo. Don't hurt Da—Professor Snape! I promise I'll find a way to come this weekend!"_

"_I don't __**like**__ sharing you with anyone else, Harry." The older man's normally cool, collected voice was coming out as a hiss. "If he prevents you from seeing me, then he needs to be eliminated."_

"_Why?" Harry raised his voice. "Why is it always __**violence**__ with you? Blaise never wronged you in any way, and neither did Professor Snape!"_

"_They touched what is __**mine**__. Of course they need to be punished for such transgressions."_

_Harry shook his head. "Why must you think of it that way?" he demanded, his voice threatening to break. "You don't even need my company! And don't you have Blaise's __**mother**__ as your companion now? Isn't she enough to satisfy you? She is pretty, and classy, and you look good together, and… And I can't compare to her."_

"_What are you saying, child?" Marvolo scowled. "What is this? You are talking back to me again. Are you … jealous of her?"_

"…" _Harry wanted to retort, but he kept silent. What was this feeling inside his chest? It was akin to anger, mixed with pain. He tried not to remind himself of that holiday trip in France. Swallowing, Harry answered honestly, "…I don't know."_

"_Don't make me laugh, child. You are my pet. You are not allowed to think. You are mine, and you'll do what I say. Do you understand?"_

"_No, I' m not."_

"_Pet?"_

"_I am not…" Harry shook his head sharply. "I am not your pet!"_

"_What …" Marvolo paused. "Then what exactly do you think you are?"_

"… _I am a human." Harry didn't dare look up._

"_Is this a joke?" Marvolo chuckled dryly, clearly getting more and more irritated. "Where did all this come from, child?"_

_Harry didn't answer. He wasn't sure why he had refuted Marvolo's claim. Before, he'd never minded being called "pet." He had always been content whenever Marvolo treated him like one. Why now? Why the anger?_

"_You are too spoiled now. Don't forget your place, my child," Marvolo hissed. "You. Are. Mine."_

_Harry shook his head violently, refusing to listen._

"_Come with me now," Marvolo insisted impatiently. "And I'll forgive you."_

"_I can't." Harry grabbed Marvolo's robe, unconsciously begging. "I promised the Professor that I would return to Hogwarts with him."_

"_So… he is more important than me?"_

_Harry refused to answer; his silence seemed to be answer enough for the other man. Marvolo let out a noise like a deep growl and roughly tore Harry's grip away from his robe. The bubble of silence burst, and then Marvolo was gone._

When the teacup was thrust in front of him, Harry automatically put the rim around his mouth, and the scalding burn that ensued made him flinch. Somehow, as though from far away, he could hear Snape fussing about his burnt tongue, but Harry wasn't aware of anything in particular right now. He was in a state of shock. Being burned by the hot tea had just now _hurt_ him. Harry's wrist used to be broken every other day, and he would take that type of pain completely in stride—at the age of seven.

He was getting… _weaker_. He couldn't override pain anymore. He was getting too spoiled in his current living arrangements. Maybe Marvolo was right.

He was being too spoiled now.

"Harry, look at me."

Professor Snape was calling for him, and Harry turned his head upwards, peering at the concerned face of his professor. His professor looked a bit older than he was, maybe due in part to the long-term effects of having recently been in a coma, but also, perhaps because Harry was being too much of a burden for him?

"I noticed that you…" Here Snape seemed to shift uncomfortably. "That you know the Dark Lord."

"The Dark Lord?" Harry asked. "Who?"

"…You don't _know_?" Professor Snape asked softly.

"Who is the Dark Lord? Isn't he the wizard who killed my parents, sir? Professor Lupin has been telling me about what happened with my parents, sir. And he said the Dark Lord is dead. Is it true?"

The Potions Master rubbed the bridge of his hooked nose to calm himself down. "I hope so, Harry. That aside, I want to know how you have become so intimate with …Mr. Gaunt."

"Marvolo?" Harry asked to make sure. "Well, he… he was…"

"I remember," Professor Snape suddenly grimaced, "that the day you fainted in Diagon Alley, you told me that you didn't want to meet him. You had met him before that incident, then?"

Harry contemplated how to answer accurately. He'd never wanted to speak about how he had met Marvolo, for that would require explaining about how Marvolo had gotten inside his head, and how he'd stolen the Philosopher's Stone for him.

But still, it was Professor Snape who was asking, and to be honest, Harry was currently feeling very insecure, and dazed at the discovery of his currently lowered tolerance to pain and rejection. He was so unlike his self of three years ago, when rejection and pain seemed to be his only loyal companions. Now that he had angered Marvolo, Harry subconsciously feared angering his legal guardian as well. The boy was sure if he were sent to the Wizarding orphanage now, he wouldn't make it (especially after having experienced what it was like to have a 'daddy' who 'bought him presents').

"Yes, I did. I have known him ever since my first year here, Professor." The boy's voice was soft. "But please, promise me that you won't tell anyone else about this? Marvolo is not going to be happy at all if he knew that I told you this. He promised me never to tell."

"I cannot promise much, but I'll do my best, Harry. Please tell me everything, so that I can find the best way to help you. How exactly did the two of you meet?"

Harry nodded, still refusing to look his professor in the eye. "He became my first real companion at Hogwarts, sir. I was so unhappy during my first year here, but he kept me from giving up. He mentored me and taught me many things, but he was gone by the end of my first year, sir. Marvolo was kind to me… I think."

"Child… how did you first _meet_ him?"

"Does that _matter_, sir?" Harry retorted a bit strongly, trying his best to maintain a cool façade. He still could not bring himself to betray Marvolo by telling Professor Snape about him. After all, Marvolo was already very mad at him, and Harry didn't want to make Marvolo even angrier. "He was very kind, sir. He comforted me when I was feeling low, and he… he really taught me a lot of stuff, sir."

"What kind of 'stuff,' child?" Professor Snape asked in a worried tone. "Can you tell me?"

"Some advanced charms and Transfiguration spells, sir." Harry tried his best to be vague. He knew that hearing something like "_Marvolo taught me Necromancy_" would probably set off a dozen alarm bells inside his Professor's head.

His professor waited for a moment longer, but it seemed the boy didn't want to explain himself any further. So he sighed. "So… what happened? I remember that you fainted when we met him in Diagon Alley last summer."

"…It was because when I saw him in Diagon Alley, I was very upset. I felt he was playing with my feelings. He had come and gone, back and forth, to and from Hogwarts; each time wearing a different face, sir. At the time we saw him in the Alley, I wasn't aware that Sir Gaunt was Marvolo. But when we saw each other, our magical cores violently collided and I fainted, sir. I was weak and scared of being abandoned again, so I couldn't… I didn't want to meet him." Harry's lids fluttered at the memory. "And so I begged you not to let me see him, sir. Thank you for helping me."

"Harry, calm down. Drink your tea, please," the professor suddenly cut him off, and Harry looked up. He was floored. The older man was looking very concerned, and his face was deathly pale, as though he were frightened. The boy gulped the potion in one go, and he realized that there must have been some Calming Draught inside the cup, because he instantly felt relaxed.

"And this year… when you were still in a coma, sir, I went to Marvolo's Manor every weekend. He taught me more charms and helped me relax while I got to play with Annana, his pet snake. But he is now angry because I haven't been to his place for the past two weeks. I didn't know that he would show up at Draco's booth during the Quidditch World Cup— I forgot that Marvolo and Draco's father are quite close."

"You could say that, I suppose. Why didn't you visit him these past two weeks?"

"Because… because you had finally awakened, and I needed to help you recover. Also because… Marvolo is going out with Blaise's mother, so I thought I shouldn't bother them."

This reminded Snape of that one crucial conversation between Narcissa and Esme. "So you don't know about Gilderoy Lockhart either, I presume?" Snape asked, and he was relieved when Harry shook his head.

"I don't know, sir. Why? Was Professor Lockhart included in this debacle as well?"

"No, it doesn't matter now. But he never did anything unsavory to you, did he?" Snape asked gently. He still remembered how Harry had vomited blood the last time he'd asked a question like this. "Has he ever touched you, Harry?"

The boy blushed and nodded. Snape suddenly felt like strangling the Dark Lord. How dare the man touch an innocent, defenseless boy like Harry!

"He usually lets me sleep on his lap, sir." Harry blushed as he said these words. But he frowned again. "But now that he is angry at me… I don't think he will let me do that anymore, sir. He said that I am his pet…" The boy trailed off. Somehow, the weighty feeling within Harry's chest became heavier. Wasn't that the whole point of his fight with Marvolo? That he didn't like being called "Pet"? But now that he thought harder about it, he might acted too petty and childish, getting riled up like that. Now he wasn't sure whether he could come to Marvolo Manor at all. Maybe Marvolo didn't want him around anymore. "…and study, sir. He gave me some tomes and books to study."

"Please show me the books he gave you, child. I need to make sure they are safe," Snape sighed. "One last question, Harry. Has he ever hurt you in any way?"

Harry held his breath. He had been hurt, emotionally, so many times, but only once physically when he had been blasted into the Riddle Manor during his very first visit. So he shook his head. "Marvolo was very nice, sir. He showed me spells, taught me some advanced charms, gave me advice, and protected me. He also introduced me to Annana, and he was always kind towards her, too. He… he healed me when I was hurt, and he supported me whenever I was feeling sad. He was there when I was lonely as well… but now that I angered him, I don't think he wants to see me anymore…"

And to his utter astonishment, a tear fell in his lap. Harry rubbed his eyes, trying to hide his sniffling; yet he failed.

"Child, what troubles you so?" Professor Snape asked him, and Harry tried to answer coherently.

"I don't… don't like it that he is angry at me, sir. I don't … I need to… I want to apologize to him, sir. I don't like this. I don't like fighting with him. I don't want him to dislike me, sir. I don't want to be…" _–abandoned again._

At once he felt Professor's Snape calming presence right beside him, and the sofa upon where he sat deflated from the additional weight. His body was being pressed onto the Professor's chest. It was all that was needed to break Harry down.

"I am sorry," Harry sobbed. "I am sorry, sir. I am sorry that you were hurt because of my birthday party— if it weren't for me, people wouldn't have been able to come into Hogwarts and hurt you. I am sorry that I didn't follow your orders. I am sorry that I knew who Marvolo was and didn't tell you. I am sorry, sir. I don't understand what is happening, why everything is so complicated right now. I don't know how to make everything right again. Marvolo is angry at me."

"Harry, child…" The Professor tried to be as gentle as possible and patted the child.

"He told me that I am too spoiled, sir. I am sorry. I should never forget the things that people have done for me. I am such an ungrateful brat. I don't deserve the presents you bought me, and in my stupidity I even lost them. I am sorry. Please don't hate me. Please don't leave me. I promise I won't act spoiled anymore."

"I could never hate you or leave you, Child. You were never spoiled." The Professor's soothing voice trickled into Harry's ears. "Never spoiled. I have noticed something about you… you always try to mend everything on your own, and it is too hard of a burden to bear for a small child like you. You need to start trusting me and other people, Harry. Not everything that went wrong was your fault entirely. You need to share your burdens. Otherwise you will burst and there will be nothing left. And, please, forget about the game souvenirs! I can buy you a lot more, and so easily. Nothing compares to having you safely in my arms. I just want to make sure you are safe and happy, child."

"Why would you want to do that?" Harry asked, as tears rolled down his face. "Why would anyone ever want to make me happy? Why are you so kind to me? You have done so much for me and I have yet to repay you with anything."

"Because you deserve it, child." Snape gently wiped the tears from Harry's cheek. "This is not a matter of owing favors, or repayment— I'm doing this because I care about you. I don't need any type of repayment from you. All I need is for you to feel safe and happy—that alone would give me more happiness than any tangible payment you could ever promise me. You have a fundamental right as a child to feel safe and happy, and I am so sorry that nobody has ever provided this for you, or even told you any of this before."

The Professor, of all people, should not have been the one apologizing to him, but Harry was touched all the same. Somehow it made the self-pitying part of Harry swell up in recognition, to realize that this wasn't all Harry's fault and somehow, it wasn't entirely Harry's responsibility to set things right again either. Harry received Snape's words eagerly, and he sobbed his heart out inside his Professor's arms.

"What…What should I do now, Professor?"

Snape looked pained for a second. "If you are truly troubled by this matter, Harry, I think it would be in your best interests to make up with him. With your 'Marvolo'. You can write him a letter of apology. But please, promise me one thing. Do not go to his place anymore. It is not safe there, Harry."

Harry nodded and buried himself inside his professor's comfortable robes. As his tears slowly dried up, Harry finally managed to stop hiccupping and sobbing. He looked up.

"Thank you, Professor."

Snape smiled, although it was a very thin smile. A comfortable silence fell between them, and Harry remembered how, the last time he had cried like this, he'd been beside the bed of his unconscious professor. Suddenly, he was reminded of Dumbledore's words.

"Do… Do you also want me to stay away from the Malfoys, Professor?"

"What made you ask this, Harry?"

"Professor Dumbledore said I should," the boy answered solemnly. "I couldn't wake you up from your coma, and even though you are always there to support and protect me, I will never be able to fully repay you for your kindness, sir. I—I—" He couldn't seem to stop himself. He was going on a circle, on and on again. The circle of endless self-depreciation. The endless cycle of apology. "I still lost the presents you bought me. I am really sorry sir. I know you said it doesn't matter, but I still want to repay you. I will do everything you want me to do."

"Harry…" Snape closed his eyes, trying to hide his impatience. He didn't know where to even begin. While he figured he had a basic grasp of Harry's lack of self-awareness and self-esteem, Snape realized that, on a fundamental level, he simply didn't understand what went on inside the boy's head. What should he say to this boy, who was practically offering his own body up as payment for a cheaply-made telescope? Harry clearly placed his own self-value somewhere around the level of "non-existent." And the burden of making this child change his perceptions seemed to fall on Snape's shoulders. It was a rather heavy, frustrating burden to bear.

"You do not need to start obeying every whim of mine," Snape began slowly. "You are your own man, and you need to decide _who_ you are. I can only guide you, but it is vital that you also need to question my guidance at certain times. There is no right or wrong in this case; where you go in life depends on your decisions."

Harry sighed, turning away at his words.

"Look, Harry, I cannot tell you who you can and can't be friends with. You know yourself best, and you probably know, deep down, who'd make bad company. But whenever you need advice, I will always give it as best as I am able, because I am your guardian. I am sure you are aware of how judgmental people can be sometimes. The Malfoy family, in the eyes of the general Wizarding public, embodies the epitome of Slytherin—and you know how Slytherins typically fare in the eyes of the Wizarding World. They think of us as evil, cunning, conniving snakes. But are we, really? The Malfoys may have done some despicable things, but does that truly make up their entire legacy? Are they really all that bad? Advice is advice, my child, but in the end, you alone must choose whether to follow what I advise or not."

With these last words, Snape sighed and stood on his feet. "It is late. You need to rest after such an eventful day. I need to report to Dumbledore now, but I promise I won't tell him about your Marvolo. …Good night, Harry."

Harry felt the crown of his head being tapped gently before the Professor reached the fireplace. He disappeared into the Floo network, heading straight towards the Headmaster's office.

* * *

><p>Harry couldn't sleep that night. He couldn't shake Marvolo's angry face from his memory. Especially the way Marvolo had pushed him away before leaving the booth—Harry's chest hurt so much just from thinking about it. His professor had kindly given him advice— to write Marvolo a note of apology. But the professor had told him not to physically meet up with Marvolo…. Yet Harry knew he should go, because he <em>had<em> promised. And making up with Marvolo, face to face, seemed more sensible and easier to do.

So Harry gulped hard before packing up his Invisibility Cloak and his broom. He left his "Old" wand in his trunk (Harry had nicknamed the wand that the Headmaster had given him the 'Old wand' due to the ancient-looking wood the wand was constructed with), and took only his phoenix-core wand. Then he slipped into the Chambers of Secret, scanning the corridor beforehand to ensure that nobody was watching.

Once the Portkey ring was activated, Harry turned around. The Manor was silent and dark. It seemed as though nobody was home. After checking the working room, the corridor, the living room, and finding all three rooms completely empty, Harry finally called upon one of the House Elves and asked the creature where Marvolo was. The House elf—whom Harry recognized as Dobby—welcomed him gladly, but he also told Harry that the Master wasn't home.

Harry didn't know what to do now. Should he wait a moment longer, or should he simply return to Hogwarts? It was at that moment Annana came down from her nest and slid on the floor. Harry smiled at the sight of the blindfolded snake (nowadays she was always blindfolded, as she'd managed to accidentally kill more than three house elves before Marvolo had the sense to do something about it).

_Harry?_ she hissed. Harry recognized the hisses. It was how Annana always called him, and Harry sure she was trying to pronounce his name.

"Annana! I've missed you!"

The Basilisk hissed something in response, but Harry couldn't understand her. He just slowly climbed onto the majestic snake's body and started to slowly pat her cold scales. Slowly, as the hour grew ever later, his previously heightened adrenaline levels began to taper off. He ended up falling asleep within the snake's coils.

When he slowly opened his eyes, he realized that he was lying on a bed.

"Child."

The voice woke Harry up with a start. The owner of the Manor was standing at the right side of the bed. The bed was so huge, it was clear that it had to be Marvolo's bed. The sheets were filled with his scent, and the green silk and silver embroidery directly corresponded to typical Slytherin colors.

"Marvolo… I…"

"You came."

Harry nodded. He tried to stand, but Marvolo didn't budge even as the boy did so. Harry ended up standing awkwardly beside the bed, right in front of the older man. Harry felt his calf touching the high edge of the bed, and he held his breath, eyes looking everywhere but at the man in front of him. "I want to… apolo…"

He didn't finish his sentence, as Marvolo's hand shot out and suddenly pulled his jaw upwards. Harry saw Marvolo's reddish eyes shining brightly with an emotion he couldn't pinpoint but which nonetheless scared Harry. It was definitely not the usual display of gentleness or acceptance that he'd been hoping Marvolo would lavish on him. Harry suddenly began to regret his rash decision to leave Hogwarts and visit the Manor.

"Whe…where is Annana?" He tried to move away, but Marvolo's other hand tightly gripped his right bicep. Harry managed to emit a gasp before Marvolo's lips were suddenly on his, demanding access to the boy's mouth. Harry gulped before parting his lips, and within the next second, he was lost in a sensuous mixture of bitter aftertaste, the smell of alcohol, and a hint of Marvolo's scent.

Harry allowed the older man dominate him and invade his small mouth with a hot and wet tongue. The sensations were familiar—Blaise had attacked him in a similar fashion— but the resemblances stopped there. Blaise had been considerably gentler, slower, more patient. Marvolo was aggressively eating the inside of his mouth. When Harry struggled to speak out, it came out as a moan.

The moan seemed to excite the older man, as Marvolo slid his arm around Harry's smaller waist and his other hand grabbed Harry's hair roughly. Harry was forced to tilt his face even higher, more sharply, and he moaned even more loudly as the man aggressively sucked at his lower lip. In a subconscious effort to break free, Harry put his two palms on Marvolo's chest, ready to shove.

"No," Marvolo suddenly growled, in a very rough voice which made Harry shiver all over. "Don't fight this. You should let me do this as your apology."

The words completely stopped Harry. He felt himself being pushed back onto the bed, and soon the soft cool comfort of the silk pushed against his back, helping his body slither into position. Harry gulped and tried to scoot away; however, he was not fast enough. Marvolo's claws were around his neck, and in the next instant, Harry was effortlessly moved back into the middle of the bed.

Harry choked. The grip on his neck was so harsh and as strong as iron; he couldn't breathe properly. When Marvolo loosened his grip, Harry started to cough in order to force more oxygen in his lungs; his arms flailed around him. Immediately Harry felt Marvolo looming over him, and suddenly Harry was boxed in between two strong, muscled arms on either side of his body. Marvolo's scent was all around him, everywhere around him.

_Everywhere_.

He couldn't run away. He was trapped.

Harry's throat throbbed in pain from all the coughing and he saw that the pair of red eyes was staring at him intensely. Harry was sure he would be eaten whole, right then and there.

"You are mine." Marvolo hissed. "_Mine."_

The boy felt his legs being forced open wide, so wide that a wince escaped his lips, and then Marvolo was positioning himself in between them, lowering himself.

The boy choked again when he felt Marvolo's nose on his neck, and then a sharp pain as Marvolo bit the junction between his neck and shoulder. Harry moaned from pain as a ticklish feeling overcame him. "Oh!" The green eyed boy felt the fine strands of his hair standing on end, and goosebumps appearing all over his skin. His heart started to pump out of control, and a voice in his head was warning him that something was going to happen, something bad, something similar to what his uncle had done…

Harry's heart dropped into the pit of his stomach. At the same time, his little manhood twitched in anticipation.

Marvolo's harsh lick on the bite mark he'd left on the boy's neck drowned out that voice in his head, and Harry closed his eyes, involuntarily savoring the strange sensation of being devoured like this. The slow movement of the wet and hot tongue toward the back of his ears made Harry flush. "Aahn!"

Marvolo's body was completely on top of his. Harry was glad that they were still clothed, and yet—? Harry was sure that his entire body was flushing from embarrassment. Marvolo's hips were directly on top of his, and Harry felt a very unfamiliar tingling in his lower regions.

"Marvolo, this… what are you—?"

"Sssh," the man shushed him. "My little pet, just let me do this."

It was the only warning Harry received before Marvolo started moving his hips, rubbing onto the crotch area of Harry's trousers. Harry gasped, tossing his head backwards; he couldn't stand the new sensation. The strange tingling was overwhelming his senses. Harry squirmed, but as his open legs were being pinned by Marvolo's thighs as well as by his superior weight, Harry had no choice but to receive the rubbing in resignation.

Marvolo kissed his cheek. Harry blinked and his eyes began to well up. The sensations he was experiencing from the rubbing was too much! Marvolo kissing his earlobes and sucking his neck didn't help either. Harry put both of his hands on top of the man's shoulders, trying to push him away. Marvolo responded by dipping his tongue into Harry's ear.

"Sssh, everything is fine, child. I am merely claiming you."

"N…_Nnnnn_!" Harry moaned loudly as Marvolo's hand slowly rubbed the front of his chest. When Marvolo rolled his knuckles against the little, hardened nipples, Harry moaned hard. "Nnno…!"

Harry's gasping breathes devolved into moans as the older man started licking and rubbing every visible part of his body. The man's hip thrusts didn't slow down at all, and suddenly Harry felt Marvolo's giant hand cupping the front of Harry's pants. It made his lower regions throb violently, and Harry was overcome with a strange urge to urinate. Something was coming out— he was going to wet himself. In a near panic, he tried to warn Marvolo.

"Sir, please stop! I—I'm going to—"

Marvolo kissed him in response, as Harry's body resumed pitching and shaking in pleasure.

"Sssh… don't cry."

Harry didn't open his eyes, but the steady stream of tears leaking from his eyes refused to slow its course. This was pleasurable, but also painful at the same time. He was honestly torn between loving and loathing what was happening.

"Mmmph!" Harry's voice, muffled, cried out. "No, sir, please! Stop! STOP!"

Marvolo stopped his ministrations then. Cracking open one reddish eye, he took in the boy's flushed face, his panting face, and the wide tear streaks. Harry was quaking all over, and his lower lip had turned to jelly.

He sighed. "All right. I won't push you too far today, my pet. We can take this slowly."

The boy's eyes widened in fear. _There is more of this?_

Marvolo took Harry's hand and kissed the palm. Harry twitched from the sensation, as Marvolo gently left a row of kisses down the inside of Harry's wrist. At the end of the trail, his teeth sunk into the boy's skin, leaving a wet, reddish mark.

"Rest, pet. I'll wake you up when morning comes."

Harry squirmed and quickly snatched back his arm, but then Marvolo loomed over him again. Harry prepared himself for another attack, but he could only feel a nice, slow kiss on his forehead.

"Good night."

Shaking, closing his eyes, Harry slowly returned to his dream world. He half-consciously felt Marvolo climbing into bed beside him, capturing his waist and holding Harry in a protective embrace as the boy slipped into peaceful obliviousness.

* * *

><p>Harry returned to Hogwarts sometime during the early dawn, quickly slipping back into his bedroom. He left Marvolo without saying anything, and although he knew he would be punished for it, Harry couldn't suppress the urge to run away. When he arrived in the dungeon, the boy saw that Professor Snape hadn't returned yet to his quarters, which made Harry breathe a sigh of relief.<p>

He ended up sleeping until late noon. He was eventually awakened by one of the House elves calling him for lunch. It seemed that Professor Snape didn't want to wake him up, due to their 'eventful' day yesterday.

Frowning, Harry studied himself in the bathroom mirror. The bruises on his neck were greenish-bluish, and roughly in the shape of hand prints. It was a first—usually any simple harm he had on his body was cleared out in the morning. It showed how strong Marvolo's grip last night on him was. It was proof that something really had occurred the night before—as though waking up on top of Marvolo's chest hadn't been proof enough. Harry turned and spewed a wad of bitter mucus into the toilet bowl. He waited, but nothing else came up. He was terribly relieved that there was no blood this time.

Walking shakily into the Great Hall, Harry tried to act as though nothing was amiss. He tried to not think any more about last night.

It did help that the news of what had happened during the Quidditch World Cup distracted him from any more negative thoughts. The newspaper was having a field day, and every professor was gossiping about it. The fervor poured into the following week, as the British Wizarding World was still immersed in the after-effects of the attack during the World Cup. The newspaper posted repeat articles on the Quidditch competition, and soon Harry gave up paying attention to whatever the newspaper was saying.

Hogwarts was also in a state of preparation. It seemed that most of the Professors were very busy, and Harry caught the four Heads of Houses (Professor Snape had been re-elected as the Head of Slytherin House, leaving Professor Slughorn to retire and depart from Hogwarts mere days after Professor Snape's recovery) tirelessly preparing new wings to accommodate more people. Harry was sure this wasn't a typical semester preparation, as Harry had stayed at Hogwarts the year before as well. Maybe there was going to be an atypically huge new batch of incoming first years this year, Harry mused.

He spent most of his days at the library, trying to make more use of his free time. He began tackling some studies he had been postponing since last year, namely Necromancy. Professor Snape had only been able to review a couple of the books Marvolo had lent Harry to read. It seemed as though many of Marvolo's books refused to let any other person except Harry even open them, so Harry was forced to simply relay to his Professor what was written inside.

Professor Snape couldn't find much to be wary of since they were not exactly Dark tomes, and in the end, he decided it would be alright for Harry to continue his studies. This made Harry happy, as some of the unopened books were actually about Necromancy, and he'd really missed reading up on the subject. Especially now that whenever he studied, somehow his new wand would always start shaking with delight. Moreover, the ring from Marvolo also shone whenever it touched Necromancy-related books. It was intriguing for Harry, and it fuelled his desire to understand Necromancy more. Maybe after he finished devouring all of the tomes, he could start doing some of the more rituals himself. The Room of Requirement and Chamber of Secret should be able to accommodate his experimenting.

Throwing himself into his studies nearly took his mind off the bite mark Marvolo had left on the inside of his wrist. Thinking about the bite mark only made him wonder. Marvolo _had_ promised that he would "mark" him, but mark him for what? And why?

One of the tomes was about Parseltongues. It contained much information about them, and how the ability was passed down from one person to another. The trait could only be passed either through a blood ritual or genetic succession. Of course, there existed the "normal" way of learning the language, but it was a very difficult language to learn and involved physically manipulating one's tongue to perfect the sounds and pronunciations. This explained why the only Parselmouths Harry knew of in existence were Marvolo and Professor Lockhart.

His afternoons were filled with one-on-one lessons with Professor Snape. Most of the time they prepared potions for the infirmary and for any other side orders that the Professor had, but sometimes they would sit together in front of Snape's unlit fireplace and each enjoy a book. More often than not, during these quiet sessions, Professor Snape's hand would stray onto Harry's head and tousle his hair softly, causing Harry to almost purr in delight. Snape's gentle treatment of him diverted Harry from brooding over what to do about Marvolo. Professor Snape had told him firmly that it was best that Harry didn't go to the Manor any more, and thus Harry kept his 'night' with Marvolo a secret because he had blatantly went against the Potion Master's advice. He then vowed not to return to the Manor anymore for the rest of the holiday. Harry hoped it wouldn't make matters more complicated.

Three days later, during the breakfast hour, Harry received a letter from an unfamiliar-looking owl.

_Dear Harry,_

_How are you? I hope this letter finds you well. I know that we have not talked much since my graduation. My apologies. I was so deep inside my new Ministry job that I'm afraid I found no time till now to send you letters._

_How is Hogwarts? Is everything fine?_

_I also want to tell you that I proposed to Penelope last month, and she said yes! So we will be holding our engagement party soon, and we do hope you can come and give us your blessings._

_Please take care of yourself,_

_Sincerely,_

_Percy Weasley._

The contents of the letter stayed inside Harry's head throughout the day. The Headmaster gave him permission to attend the party, as he himself was also invited and could tag along as Harry's bodyguard. Instead of relief, Harry felt strangely annoyed. The boy was starting to feel a bit bothered by the constant, smothering affection coming from the professors around him. It felt as though everybody around him was always making sure that he was protected. But at the same time, nobody cared to explain who or what it was exactly that Harry needed protection from, and why.

But from the tidbits he picked up here and there, Harry formulated a hypothesis that maybe, _maybe_, Marvolo was, in fact, the Dark Lord that was supposedly intent on killing him.

At first, it sounded perfectly ridiculous to Harry—so far Marvolo had not once even come close to murdering him, despite promising to do so in their first meeting. The hypothesis only explained why Professor Snape was dead set on refusing to let him go back to the Manor, and why Professor Snape had been gravely injured on Harry's birthday—Harry remembered clearly that Professor Snape had been found unconscious and hurt directly after receiving his first kiss from Marvolo.

As reasonable as the analysis sounded, he refused to accept it. Surely Marvolo wouldn't want to keep the boy he wanted to kill as a _pet_, right? There would be no benefit in it for him at all, from doing so. And Harry still needed Marvolo as his Parseltongue and Necromancy teacher. He still hadn't been able to properly finish the argument he'd had with Tom during his second year, about whether a Necromancer really had the power to connect the realms of death and life, or whether a Necromancer merely had the power to control an empty shell in the living realm, as the soul was long gone. So, Harry rejected the whole thing and buried his head inside proverbial sand.

What he couldn't see wouldn't hurt him.

* * *

><p>The engagement party was to be held that weekend, so a few days after receiving Percy's letter, Harry put on his best robes and walked over to the school gates to meet the Headmaster. They Portkey'ed into the Burrow, and by the time they arrived, there were already quite a crowd.<p>

Harry looked around and was captured by the twins before he could even blink. Each occupied Harry's left and right side, and together, they started pranking the other guests. Lunch was delicious, and Harry noticed that there were quite a large number of guests at the garden party. The Weasley family alone already totaled nine people, and with the addition of the neighbourhood families, Penelope's families and friends, Harry could count a total of twenty five people.

By the time Harry had gotten around to giving his present to the blessed couple, it was at the end of the party. Harry had asked Professor Snape for ideas, and his guardian had helped him purchase a pair of matching _Stasis_-ed mugs. Harry noticed that the couple looked tired but happy. Glowing. They were holding hands, and occasionally giving one another kisses. It all looked too good to be true. Percy was grinning like a fool and Penelope was blushing to the roots of her hair.

It made Harry wonder whether something was wrong with him. Blaise occasionally kissed him, but never once had Harry felt the need to blush and smile the way Penelope was smiling. Marvolo had kissed him, but Harry had never felt the need to kiss the man back, or even smile about it.

Marvolo had _claimed_ him—it seemed very different from how Percy and Penelope were treating each other. Why were these experiences so different? Harry was sure each kiss between each couple in the world was physically the same. Here, Percy and Penelope were locking lips, just as Harry and Percy— just as Harry and _Marvolo_—

But Percy and Penelope looked so _happy_. And Harry had never once felt an iota of happiness.

"Harry! Thank you for coming! We are very sorry for not getting to talk to you till now!" Percy grabbed Penelope's hand, scooting over towards Harry. Harry stretched his face into a smile and the three of them sat together, Harry sandwiched in the middle between the couple. It made Harry feel a bit awkward, but also very pleased.

"Congratulations on your engagement. Here is a present from me and Professor Snape…"

"Thank you, Harry! Thank you for coming! We are very happy that you came! And you look so handsome today! You are just so adorable." Penelope smiled even wider as she hugged the boy, kissing his forehead. Harry blushed. He decided he liked those kisses. He liked being treated nicely by the couple. They were like the living embodiment of the perfect engaged couple.

"You are looking a bit paler than the last time I saw you." Percy frowned. "Have you been taking care of yourself?"

"I am," Harry answered defiantly. "I take care of myself, always."

"Silly boy. You never have, and you know it." Percy sighed. "But fear not! I can look after you this year, as there is no NEWT anymore and I can focus completely on my job and— on you."

"Eh? You are returning to Hogwarts?" Harry was surprised. "I thought you had that big-shot job at the Ministry!"

"Oh yes, I still do." Percy smiled proudly. "I am Mr. Crouch's private secretary. It turns out this year I will be needed at Hogwarts, I think. I will be there, Harry. And Penelope is coming with me to the Yule Ball this December!"

"The Yule Ball?" Harry tilted his head. "What is that?"

"Oh, Harry, my naive little kid." Penelope sighed in amusement and kissed Harry's head again. Harry pouted but he couldn't hide his smile. "The Yule Ball is the annual Christmas party that is held at Hogwarts every December. Last year you were still a third year, so you couldn't come. This year you need to attend the ball and dance with us!"

Harry nodded. "Of course I will."

Percy smiled indulgently and tousled the boy's hair. "I am really glad that you will come, Harry. I thought you wouldn't want to come after… after what happened last semester."

Harry shook his head. "We are good now, right?"

Percy nodded. "Yes."

Harry smirked. "And you two are definitely good as well. Kissing in front of everyone, right here in public… how embarrassing."

It was meant as a jest, but the couple suddenly looked at each other seriously and turned to Harry. Harry felt like he was in trouble now.

"Harry, do you still think that kissing is embarrassing?"

"…No, not really."

"Have you yourself ever been kissed?" Penelope asked.

"…Yes."

"By who…? Don't tell me it was by that Zabini boy," Percy snarled. "Ronald told me. So it's true."

Harry blushed. "He had no right to tell!"

"That aside, are you happy about what happened?" Penelope butt in, cutting Percy's remark short.

The boy bit his lip. "What do you mean by 'happy?'"

"Penelope means— did you give him your consent before he kissed you? Did you let him know beforehand whether it was alright to do that to you?" Percy clarified.

Harry fell silent. His head started to pound. Did he enjoy it whenever Blaise kissed him? He did like the sweet kiss on the cheek, but to be kissed on the lips, exchanging saliva; why, it felt … gross? Uncomfortable?

"Why all the questions?" Harry asked blankly. "Why is my consent that important? When the two of you kissed, you looked happy. Why? Do I need to be happy as well?"

"Harry, look…" Penelope gently patted Harry's head. "Yes, you need to be happy and yes, your consent is necessary. You should only kiss someone that you love. If you do it with any old person, the kiss would simply be meaningless."

"And the person also needs to love you back," Percy added. "Otherwise, it would ultimately culminate into an endless cycle, wherein one person enjoys the act while the other only feels obligated and pressured into it. You are uncomfortable with that Zabini boy kissing you, aren't you? I can see it in your eyes. I will protect you from him this year, I promise."

Harry tried to smile, but he felt miserable, not to mention deeply uncomfortable with the way the conversation had headed. How could he explain that it was impossible for others to 'love' him enough so that Harry could feel happiness whenever he was kissed? The kisses from Blaise and Marvolo clearly didn't mean they loved him… did it?

"How can you tell if the other person loves you?" Harry asked slowly.

Percy looked at his fiancée for a moment before answering, "The other person must be willing to make you happy, even if it means doing this at their own expense. It is hard to explain, but you'll know when you experience it. And you are very loveable, Harry. Who wouldn't want to love you?"

"Also," Penelope added, "Do not ever let any person have sex with you without your consent."

"Wha…What!" Harry blushed. "What! Don't say that! How gross!"

"It may be gross for you, Harry, but it may not be for your peers." Penelope shook her head. "I'm warning you, your innocence will be easily picked up on and played with. Promise me that you will only do sexual things with someone you love. Don't ever let anyone you don't love touch you intimately—like on your 'pee-pee,' alright?"

Harry froze when Penelope mentioned touching his "pee pee." Did That Night with Marvolo count as having sex, then? But they were both still clothed, so Marvolo had not touched his manhood directly. But still… would this mean that Marvolo actually … _liked_ him? _Loved_ him?

Somehow, Harry felt so happy in this moment.

He suddenly wanted to see Marvolo so very much at that particular moment. Maybe he should go to the Manor next week.

But if he go back, would Marvolo be… pursuing more 'sex' stuff with him?

Harry blushed even harder, hiding his face in his hands, and scowled. "Why are we talking about me and kissing, anyway? We were talking about you two!"

The couple looked at each other and blushed. Then they laughed loudly.

"Percy, I want a baby like him," Penelope whined cutely. She hugged Harry tightly, as if he were a doll. Harry blushed as he felt Penelope's bosom pressing against his face. Percy smirked then, and he crushed Harry into a three-person hug, with Harry sandwiched between the two of them. Penelope smiled and kissed Harry. "Well, if only you could be our child. It would be so grand."

Harry couldn't forget that night, even after he returned to Hogwarts. He realized that he wanted to be their son, too, so very much.

* * *

><p>The Dark Mark that had been blasted into the sky during the Quidditch World cup had become something of an overnight sensation. Marvolo's blood pressure had also skyrocketed. He hadn't yet caught the moron who had the gall to pull that off, even after <em>Crucio<em>-ing most of his lower- to middle-ranked followers. He'd figured the idiot or idiots responsible for this mess likely came from his lowest circle of followers, those verifiable buckets of stupidity, aggression, and empty boasting. As usual, Lucius had no idea who the culprit might be.

Eventually, several Aurors discovered that the owner of the wand that had been used to cast the Mark was a teenage boy called Ronald Weasley. Marvolo had been forced to join the task force sent to find who'd shot the Dark Mark, and so there he was, standing side by side with Crouch in the center of the Quidditch field. Curiously, the proud man had stayed silent during the entire spectacle; Marvolo had expected the Head of Magical Sports to harp on him about the lack of 'security' at the game (which had been Marvolo's Department's responsibility). The Weasley boy was already in Azkaban for his deed, and Marvolo needed to deal with the bothersome tears and appeals from Weasley clan. If only he was in his Dark Lord persona, he would easily banish all of them to death or Azkaban with their convicted son.

Come to think of it, Crouch hadn't shown up at the office for the past three days. This heightened Marvolo's suspicions even more. These odd events must somehow all be connected. Crouch should be gloating over the relative success of his most recent project, the Quidditch World Cup. Marvolo was actually a bit thankful that Crouch was laying low, since Fudge had become even more irritating, reminding everyone in sight about his 'secret Triwizard' project. It took every ounce of self-control for Marvolo to keep himself from boiling the man inside out whenever he saw him. Marvolo pinned all hopes of re-equilibrating his sanity on the promise that Harry would visit him that upcoming weekend.

But when the weekend came and went and Harry never showed up at the manor, Marvolo couldn't hide his anger anymore. The living room became a war zone, with Annana and some of the poor house elves trying their best to calm their master down. Marvolo vented his anger on every surface of every object in the room—every piece of furniture was broken into at least two pieces, the walls were completely scratched up and dented, the ceiling gaped holes, and the chandelier was lying on the floor in a million pieces.

He had thought he'd made his intentions clear to the boy—hadn't he staked his claim over Harry that night? True, Harry had cried, had half-rejected him, but he hadn't run away either. The boy had clearly enjoyed being touched—why, he'd come all over himself that night. Harry's reactions had been a bit different from what Marvolo had imagined, but although the real Harry was a bit more passive than what he would've liked, he was still delightful and _real, warm_. Marvolo still remembered the nice, sweet scent coming from Harry's hair and neck, the moans and gasps emitting from the innocent lips, the slim legs that opened wide for him. Harry had come too fast, yet it made Marvolo giddy with desire because it showed how inexperienced the child was.

It was clear that Harry never even touched himself.

Furthermore, Marvolo had felt a strange urge to be selfless—so instead of forcing Harry to go further, he had let the spent child sleep while he slowly achieved satisfaction by rubbing himself between Harry's thighs. Harry had seemed too tired to notice and Marvolo had vaporized the essence from the bedsheets immediately thereafter. Nonetheless, it was the first time Marvolo had ever felt the need to be gentle and let his bed partner come without pleasing him in return. So, when he found out Harry had snuck out in the morning, he was rather upset about it. But he was sure that his pet would return for another weekend.

The Dark Lord had been looking very forward towards the weekend, when Harry would come. He could already anticipate Harry's remorse—surely the boy would feel the need to apologize, as always—yet he couldn't bring himself to admit that he really had been too harsh towards the boy. That particularly difficult conversation from many days ago had made him so angry that he'd been unable to think straight. When he'd seen Harry sleeping on Annana's bulky hide that night, all hell had broken loose. The need to claim the child overrode any shred of common sense he still possessed. He forgot that Harry was a mere boy, barely fourteen, barely able to accept intimate hugs without being reminded of the trauma he'd received at the hands of his filthy Muggle uncle.

The conversation had replayed over and over in his mind, conjuring nothing but madness and anger in his heart. How _dare_ Harry talk back to him— the brat was his plaything, his pet, and _pets_ _do not bark at their own master_. Ever. Pets should never refuse their master's whims either, and it was clear that he wasn't being shown proper respect. He was not important enough to the boy.

At least, not as important as Severus Snape, or that Blaise Zabini…

The brandy glass in Marvolo's hand burst into pieces as he was reminded of that scene in the restroom, where he'd caught Harry and Blaise together in a rather compromising position. The nerve of that Zabini boy, to actually touch his Harry! And to take care of Harry's food, and coax Harry as though this were an everyday activity… it was unbelievably irritating. It took everything in him not to march right into Hogwarts and kidnap Harry. Thinking of someone else touching his Harry drove him crazy, especially now that he had experienced the carnal sweetness of defiling Harry's innocence.

He remembered the curious lack of reaction on Severus Snape's part, when Marvolo had activated the Dark Mark at the World Cup. Even now, whenever he tried to call Severus, he couldn't reach the man as he'd once been able. It was as though the Dark Mark had vanished from Severus's body, leaving Marvolo with no power over the Potions Master.

What was happening? Marvolo shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. This wouldn't do. What he needed to do was vent… The image of the Zabini woman materialized in his mind. Perhaps tonight, he would kill two birds with one stone.

* * *

><p>Blaise couldn't say with confidence that he had much faith in any his mother's life choices. Over the years, he'd admirably managed to keep his temper and attitude in check, as he believed that every single new guy on his mother's bed would be gone by the two-year mark at the latest. His mother was notorious for her beauty and seductive ways, and thus she was never single for longer than a month at a time. And Blaise didn't want to judge his mother, but the rumors that circulated around the Wizarding community—that every single 'new father' of Blaise's who died never failed to leave his mother a vast enough fortune to support Esme's extravagant lifestyle— actually held a grain of truth.<p>

But now, his mother was clearly playing with fire.

Marvolo Riddle Gaunt was not a man to be underestimated. Even while standing a foot away from the man, Blaise felt the unmistakable, suffocating, heavy pressure of a great magical aura surrounding the man. And the man was clearly different from all the other love-struck fools that normally hung around his mother—for once, it seemed that his mother was the one who was more deeply in love.

But most importantly, the man had to be dangerous. Blaise was wracked by horrible headaches whenever the Head of Magical Enforcement was nearby, and the boy's suspicions of the man had increased twofold ever since he'd noticed how Marvolo had been looking at Harry. It was not a normal stare. When they had gone shopping for Yule presents in France, Blaise couldn't help but notice that Marvolo couldn't take his eyes off Harry, following the lithe form of the teenager everywhere and becoming very irritated whenever Blaise started his usual routine of smothering Harry (giving him food, encouraging Harry to eat and not bite himself, etc.). Plus, Blaise took note of the fact that Lord Malfoy appeared to be very fearful and respectful of the man, which amounted to solid proof that the man was nothing but bad news.

Honestly, Blaise did not like the man at all. The man had taken over two of the most important people in his life: his mother, Esme, and Harry. Esme was currently too smitten with the man to pay attention to Blaise anymore, and Harry was another matter altogether. Watching Lord Gaunt touch Harry's cheek during the Quidditch Match, watching him hold a private conversation with the child as though Harry was his little toy (with Harry looking absolutely miserable all the while) made Blaise blaze with a streak of jealousy he hadn't felt in a long time, if ever in his life. At Hogwarts, Blaise knew that Harry was safe, as Harry was officially 'Blaise's'. No other boy (including the pathetic Ronald Weasley) or girl ever dared to court Harry. But Lord Gaunt was one formidable opponent Blaise wasn't sure he could win against.

When the voices coming from his mother's room finally quieted, Blaise slowly turned around. He spotted Lord Gaunt standing outside the door, not even bothering to close it, and watched as the older man walked towards the fireplace. The man shot Blaise a quick look of hatred before stepping into the fireplace and Floo'ing away.

Blaise slowly entered the room to check on his mother, and he was shocked out of his wits.

She was seemingly unconscious and lying between the bloodied sheets of the bed. Her hands were knotted together by a silk tie, and blood was clearly visible underneath the perfectly manicured fingernails. Numerous red bruises dotted every visible inch of skin, and perhaps most sickening of all; a steady stream of blood was flowing from between her splayed legs. Yet, a wide, serene smile was plastered on his mother's unconscious face.

Blaise immediately contacted St. Mungo's, putting in an urgent request for his family's private healers.

* * *

><p>Uh... well, I think people have different minds and opinions. I called myself indecisive and insecure, and I really envy those people who can stand against anything for themselves. So... yeah. Harry is a bit (well, maybe more than a half) like me, indecisive and with the mind of: if I cant see them, they wont hurt me. Ha ha. And, if you find Harry annoying, then let me tell you: It takes years to actually admit that a person worth something, especially when that person was groomed from childhood to think of himself as useless freak.<p>

Anyway, thank you very much for the support, see you next chapter.

H.


	26. Chapter 26

First, I apologize for the late update.

Next, I want to thanks for you who patiently waited for this.

Third, I want to scream at those who keep: 1.) saying this is bad, 2.) the update interlude is too long, 3.) why the reuploaded version all look the same? I DO MAKE CHANGES. I do have some additional, either lines, plot hints, or explanation. AND I AM NOT HERE TO PLEASE YOUR MAJESTY'S EVERY WHIM. this story is mine, as many people has point out, and I have the right to slowly rewrite stuff. I have changed the plots numerous times; you DONT KNOW because I NEVER TELL. Why no change, you ask? BECAUSE I HAVE DECIDED THAT THIS IS THE BEST WAY TO CONTINUE. If you dont like it,please make a fanfic by yourself. you can use this idea too. I never claim that I own this idea at all. I would love to read it myself.

My first plot line was "What if Harry Potter is a depressed boy who REALLY search death?" (because in stories about abusive!Harry I seldom seen him embrace the despair and act on it). my Harry is not brave. No. in fact, he is a coward. And having four year old's mindset. childish. insecure. I think this is possible. In medias like movies, books and comics, every abused hero ended up becoming either 1.) dark as hell, 2.) hating everyone, 3.) having superpowers or the rationalism to strike back, 4.) aim independence. Why? from my experience, depression does not leave you with any will to strike back. in fact, it gives you the fuel to kill yourself. So yeah, I stand by my decision to make Harry like this because it took me bloody 5 years (and loving hands from my dear betas-you two know who you are) to understand I worth something.

Anyway, enjoy.

* * *

><p>Harry didn't know how these things happened to him. This time, he found himself standing inside Marvolo's living room, only to discover that perhaps he had made an error in judgment.<p>

The room did not appear familiar. The furniture and the accessories decorating the space differed considerably from what he'd seen the last time he was there. But the magical aura permeating the room felt familiar, and soon enough, he heard the sliding and hissing sounds he'd come to associate with Annana.

The boy greeted the Queen of the Snakes gratefully, before being formally welcomed by a house elf. Harry noticed that the elf was new; he had never seen him before. When he politely asked the elf's name, the elf didn't sputter and squirm like the other servants in the Manor; no, he held himself upright with dignity and appeared to be unimpressed with Harry's Wizarding status.

"The Master is out at the moment, Harry Potter, sir. Would you like some tea while you are waiting? Master will be back soon, and I will notify him about your visit."

"Please do." Harry smiled. "Thank you."

The elf bowed, and Disapparated. Harry raised his eyebrows, realizing that the elf was truly different from what he was used to dealing with in Hogwarts. Disappearing without making a sound was a very difficult task, even for the elves. They usually simply made themselves invisible.

It was the last weekend before the start of the new school semester. Harry had lingered as long as possible, taking his time in collecting every last ounce of courage and self-determination he possessed. The thought of Marvolo '_maybe'_ being in love with him was simultaneously uplifting, amusing, and extremely esteem-boosting. Harry tried to persuade himself that if this were all true, then he had reason enough to enjoy the touches Marvolo gave him.

Because, of course, Marvolo touched him in order to make Harry feel good—wasn't that what love was all about (according to Percy and Penelope?) And even though it gave Harry the strange sensation of wanting to urinate, the act itself was actually quite pleasant, particularly due to the gentleness of the touches Marvolo granted upon him, unlike his uncle's demand. Harry was sure it wasn't sex because his uncle clearly didn't love him.

So Harry had at long last gathered enough courage to come back and inquire after the older man's true intentions—and whether he was _serious_ about them.

But his train of thoughts was suddenly derailed when the Master of the Manor himself stepped out from the fireplace, Floo dust falling all over the carpet. Harry turned around, sensing the familiar magical aura. He was blushing so hard, remembering what they had done the last time he was there.

But when he saw the look on Marvolo's face, Harry froze.

Marvolo looked positively murderous, as though he were ready to maim whoever crossed his path. Those beautiful eyebrows were knitted together and he was snarling, clearly displeased with something. When his eyes fell upon Harry, the snarl dropped from his face, but the eyebrows remained knotted, showcasing just how enraged the man was.

"Finally, you have decided to grant me your esteemed audience. Is this so, Pet?"

"Huh? I…" Harry gulped. "I am sorry, Marvolo, I meant to come earlier but I got side tracked. Besides, the last time I was here, we were…" Harry blushed, unable to continue. He settled instead for another humble apology. "I am sorry."

"Master, welcome back." The same house elf popped in view again, and once again, Harry was astonished at the lack of sound. Marvolo sighed and pulled off his robes.

"Prepare a meal for both of us. You are dismissed."

"Most excellent, sir." The elf bowed low and disappeared again. In the meantime, Harry subconsciously sidled away, placing himself behind Annana's massive bulk. The reptile hissed towards Marvolo; her inquiries were answered promptly with some quick rapid-fire hissing. Harry could distinguish some words, including his name and Marvolo's, as well as some basic vocabulary, but all in all he essentially understood little more than _welcome back._

"Why are you here, now, Harry?" Marvolo's voice was directed to him again. The question itself was harmless enough—Harry could not sense any malice behind the tone—but Marvolo's face looked so cold and devoid of emotion. And the very gesture of posing such a question seemed to reveal so much: Marvolo wasn't exactly happy that Harry was there; on the contrary, he looked irritated—very unlike the glowing smiles people typically give one other when they are in love.

Furthermore, although Marvolo had never exactly given him "conventional" welcomes whenever Harry dropped by; this time, with his cold, unwelcoming demeanor, the Marvolo standing before him appeared almost like a stranger.

The heightened, bubbly, rose-colored expectations and fantasies Harry had been harbouring inside his daydreaming head suddenly burst. The teenage boy was starting to see how reality might be vastly different from what he'd imagined during the past week.

Perhaps he had been wrong all along—no, _no_, now he was thinking too much. But Marvolo being in love with Harry must just be that—a joke, a fantasy. Like the dreams he had when he was small, when Harry still allowed himself to imagine what it must feel like to have somebody love him—endless daydreams about his parents loving and caring for him before making that rash decision to drink and drive. He knew now that his parents had truly loved him, but maybe that was just one single miracle materialized from a pool of a hundred real miseries. Perhaps this current situation was yet another figment borne from the simple, painful but alluring imagination of a lonely, longing boy.

Harry had been right. The ring was just a ring, a simple band of metal; when Pansy had told him the ring looked like an engagement ring, Harry had, for a while, been able to keep himself from jumping to the wild conclusion that Marvolo might be courting him. After being blinded by the beautiful allure of happiness that was the relationship between Percy and Penelope, however, he must have subconsciously wished for some of that same happiness for himself. And that was why he'd fantasized in his head that Marvolo might be in love with him. What an idiot he was—what a sap.

So, in the span of a mere second, he deflated. The dam inside him broke and from his lips tumbled words that were far too frank. "I am here to ask you a question."

Perplexed, Marvolo raised an eyebrow. "You dare demand a favour from me, after betraying our agreement by skipping our meetings for so many weeks counting?"

Harry flinched. "…I apologize, Sir. Professor Snape would not allow me to come and I was… I was confused with what happened the last time I was here. But now, I beg you for your help and guidance. I am here to ask you a question in order to clarify my thoughts."

Marvolo didn't reply, but he strode over and seated himself on the main leather sofa. Harry followed suite and sat on the other end, Annana resting her bulk beside him.

"Ask then, Child."

"…Are you in love with me?"

* * *

><p>Although he knew that he had been acting strangely and as badly as he wanted to meet up with Harry again, Blaise was <em>not<em> in the mood to return to Hogwarts. He kept silent throughout the usual journey in the Hogwarts Express, while his fellow fourth year Slytherins busily congratulated each other on the births of all the new babies in many of the pureblood households; this lightened the atmosphere considerably inside their compartment.

They also gossiped about the Triwizard tournament. The Ministry had been required to keep the announcement of the tournament under wraps, but it was already out in the open and had become public news amongst solely the Slytherins—only Slytherin House knew anything about the upcoming tournament, mainly due to their powerful families' influence on and connections within the Ministry.

Draco and Nott were in the midst of boasting, declaring that they would surely be selected as the Hogwarts Champions. Pansy butt in and pointed out that they didn't even meet the tournament age requirements. The girls laughed at the boys, and Nott tried to defend their boyish pride by pointing out they were still willing to try, unlike the girls, who had obviously given up before even attempting anything. Daphne Greengrass sarcastically commented on how Gryffindor-ish Nott sounded like in this moment. The whole compartment shook with laughter as all its residents continued their friendly banter—except one boy.

Blaise didn't want to even jump in. The idea of a holding a tournament with such a high mortality rate was just ridiculous and besides, he had more important things to be worried about. The first and foremost concerned his dear mother.

Worryingly, his mother hadn't yet returned to the normal, elegant, haughty Esme. She had instead devolved into a needy, compliant, teenage girl who was overly attached to one Mr. Riddle. All his mother ever talked about nowadays was Dear Marvolo this, Dear Marvolo that, and not even once had the bastard even _visited_ his mother when she was being treated at St. Mungo's. Yet once his mother returned home with a clean bill of health, the monster had come around again, whereupon they shared a disgustingly 'romantic' dinner—followed by another harsh fuckfest-filled night.

This time around, while his mother was not injured to the point of requiring hospitalization again, the date with Mr. Riddle left her unable to walk by herself for three days. And suddenly, the abusive bastard appeared again that weekend, and the whole cycle repeated. Over and over.

That morning Blaise was unable to pack. He desperately wanted to stay home instead of returning to Hogwarts. His mother was still resting from her nefarious 'activities' from four nights ago, and she looked terrible; her usual beauty and confident allure were gone, replaced by frailness and a sense of desperation. But she was smiling so widely; it hurt Blaise's heart to see his mother being so happy in an abusive relationship.

_Why was he never enough_?

He took care of his mother while a house elf packed his things for him. The elf made certain to remind his young master when it was time to go to the Station. Blaise wanted so very much to stay beside his mother in order to barricade their mansion from her bastard boyfriend. He experienced horrible headaches whenever he was anywhere near the man, and was convinced that the man was truly evil, with a strong, dark, twisted magical core. The boy hated that man more than words could describe. Especially since he also seemed to have a close relationship to Harry…

But then his mother was shooing him away, saying that he should go on and have fun in Hogwarts. Blaise waited—here was where his mother would kiss him on the forehead and then accompany her son to the Station. But as Blaise turned to say goodbye, his mother made no movement whatsoever.

After waiting a moment longer, he departed. And now he must return to Hogwarts. Although the prospect of being with Harry was a nice enough incentive to return, Blaise was still very concerned about his mother's physical and emotional well being.

Also, there was another matter. Although Blaise had never in the past been concerned about his mother's financial situation, he had recently received a disturbing letter from Gringotts. Apparently his mother had granted Mr. Gaunt joint access to the Zabinis' main vault, and the man was spending the contents like water. It was very stressful and completely unacceptable to Blaise, but as he was not the head of the Zabini household yet, there was little he could do.

So, no. Discussing the Triwizard tournament was neither important nor amusing. The excitement surrounding the tournament did nothing to relieve the burden he bore. Unlike his fellow immature and well-cared for, well-protected friends, Blaise had nobody, no guardian he could turn to. Blaise needed to get himself together to protect his mother, his family name and his wealth from the horrible demon who worked as the Head of the Department of Magical Enforcement.

* * *

><p>Slytherin House prioritized unity.<p>

Slytherins often felt like it was them versus the whole rest of Hogwarts. Being sorted in the House of the Snake simultaneously paved Slytherins the way to a bright future in Ministry-related careers, and gave them the reputation of being underhanded and snake-like. Which was a very biased and nonsensical viewpoint, because snakes typically only strike when disturbed. While not all snakes are poisonous, all of them are dangerous. In retrospect, humans are the worst, most evil animals in the world.

Unity in Slytherin was not usually visually symbolized; however, recently, the fourth year Slytherins had formulated in their heads that whatever there was between Blaise Zabini and Harry Potter (who had interestingly been sorted in Slytherin, even though he was the poster boy for the Light) was the perfect symbol for House unity. The way the two boys stayed by each other's sides through thick and thin was somehow captivating, something that one loved to see, but also understood that they themselves would not get. The way they took care of each other; the way they never seemed to have fought or argued over anything, the way their friendship and relationship had timely developed. There was no trickery at work there, no power play involved at all.

Slytherins are usually not susceptible to any sort of sentiment; yet this Blaise-Potter relationship appeared to be something out of a dream. They were so close, not allowing any other person to come in between them.

But when Blaise and Harry seemed to be avoiding each other this year, the perfect dream shattered and the Slytherins realized that they were actually being too sentimental for their own good. Draco sighed as he watched the two boy(friends) sit beside each other but refuse to talk. The Slytherin table was usually almost as silent as the Ravenclaw table, but that week the table was filled with buzzing. Most of it was centered around the Triwizard tournament, but there was one underlying string of Slytherin gossip that was definitely not being shared with the other Houses.

It seemed that the perfect couple had broken up.

Draco was one of the (_blessed_? _cursed_?) few who'd actually witnessed the disagreement that took place between Blaise and Harry. It had happened just a few weeks after the welcoming Great Feast. Draco and his peers had already sensed Blaise' impending meltdown. Draco had heard some gossip from his mother that Blaise's alluring mother had already been admitted twice to St Mungo's in the course of one month. Narcissa expressed concerned over her tea-time friend, while Lucius and Draco were forced to listen to her musings throughout dinner. Knowing how close the mother-son relationship was between Blaise and his mother, it was no wonder that Esme's health condition ate away at Blaise's mental strength. The boy was clearly very worried about his mother's health.

During the Great Feast, after the announcement of the Triwizard Tournament, everybody busily discussed the topic at their tables, wondering aloud about the foreign visitors they were to receive. Their excitement was fuelled by their very sugary dessert pudding, making them burst into uncontrollably talkative modes.

Blaise, on the other hand, remained silent. He seemed to take some comfort from the boy beside him. Harry quietly accepted Blaise's tight grip on his right arm, while eating his dinner carefully with his left hand. Neither of them talked, and it seemed as though the usual closeness between the two was being strengthened.

It didn't last. During the first week of the new semester, Blaise became increasingly forlorn and moody. By the end of the week, Harry was the only Slytherin who had been spared from Blaise's sharp, cutting remarks and irritable anger. Harry realized that Blaise was going through some issues, but the boy was too timid to inquire after them. It both incensed and pleased Blaise. Although Blaise was happy that Harry was not being nosy and was silently supporting him, the Italian boy also wanted to be asked what was wrong, to be able to share his worries with Harry and lighten his mental burden. But since Harry never opened his mouth, Blaise couldn't seem to start either.

Then there was the matter of Sundays. Draco came to realization that Harry usually was not around on Sundays. They usually visited Hogsmeade together as a bunch, and separated in groups to meet again before walking back to Hogwarts. During this time, usually Blaise and Harry chose to go alone as a couple. But since the start of fourth year, Harry stated that he wanted to spend his Sunday alone, refusing Blaise's companionship (or any other Slytherin, really) and went to his own way. The boy would then return to Hogwarts at dinner. When asked, Harry never told anyone where he went. Draco knew that Harry's refusal to tell Blaise where he went made the Italian boy insecure.

And all those little things added to the boiling point and erupted. That fateful day started with their DADA class. Blaise took his usual seat beside Harry, but he was uncharacteristically silent. They waited as Professor Moody (who looked like a man who had been cursed inside out and five ways from Sunday; he bore a weird looking magical eyeball that swiveled frantically in his head and turned this way and that) walked with his cane towards the teacher podium.

"Shut off your books and pay attention."

The tone of his voice seemed to suggest how serious (and dangerous) the man was, so Harry subconsciously leaned forward in his seat. Blaise's hand automatically rested on Harry's back, trying to comfort him. But when Harry didn't give Blaise any sign of acknowledgement whatsoever, Blaise started to frown and stopped rubbing Harry's back.

"Today I am going to teach all of you the three unforgivable curses."

All the Slytherins except Harry held their breath. Some of them had been exposed to one or two of the curses; others had learned the curses in the secrecy of their own family library. Most of them sought some kind of physical comfort from their bench mates, unlike the Gryffindors, who were busy whispering among themselves, trying to guess what the curses were. Blaise put his hand on the table, waiting for Harry's hand to join his for support. But Harry was oblivious; all he did was silently stare at the professor. Blaise sighed and took away his hand.

"The first is the Imperius curse," said the know-it-all from Gryffindor. Professor Moody then demonstrated it on the spider he'd placed on the teacher's table, but when the class laughed over the tap-dancing spider, the Professor barked loudly.

"What if you were the one being cursed? What would you do, if suddenly you were being controlled by others and could not even maintain control over your own body? What if you were ordered to kill?"

The class fell into silence, and the demonstration of the next curse found Neville Longbottom vomiting onto his table. Harry looked back at the boy in concern. Although they weren't especially close (for their Houses were not the friendliest toward each other), Harry had gotten to know Neville as a casual friend over third year-Herbology. Blaise noticed the concern in Harry's expression and he scowled.

As much as Blaise wanted to remain as cool Slytherin, his insecurities built up in his mind. _Harry seemed to not need him. Harry worried about others, not Blaise. Harry refused his company. Harry refused to tell him where he went. Esme didn't kiss him goodbye. Esme was killing herself with the abusive relationship. The Zabini wealth was decreasing in alarming rate_. Blaise felt suffocated. He couldn't handle all the stress anymore.

The last curse made Harry break into a cold sweat. As he was being singled out as the only survivor of the Killing Curse, Harry forced himself not to look away from the professor. True, he was the only survivor, but so what? The Killing Curse had successfully killed his parents, condemning him to a childhood filled with the textbook definition of domestic abuse, and now the professor was saying, in his eloquent way, that he deserved his fame from having survived. Harry wanted to answer that he'd never asked to be famous, or to even survive the curse. Maybe he mumbled his own thoughts a little too loud, for the students around him all turned their heads towards him and gave him a pitying look.

Meanwhile, Blaise lost it. After the words left Harry's mouth, the dam broke; everything, all the stress and tension that had been piling up, finally spilled over. Poor Blaise just burst. They had just wrapped up the DADA class and Harry motioned for Blaise to go ahead first, because he needed to use the bathroom before their next class. After all, they would be in separate classes next period; Harry would be attending Care of Magical Creatures and Blaise, Arithmancy. Blaise was carrying a large amount of books, and he dropped the stack by accident when Harry suddenly patted his shoulder. He let out a deafening yell.

"Yeah, go on, Harry, go on. Isn't this what you do best? Run away?"

"Bl…Blaise?" The green-eyed boy halted in his tracks. Around them, the other Slytherins stopped too. Some of the Gryffindors paused as well, but when they saw Malfoy's warning glare, they scattered. This was not a new occurrence, after all. Blaise had been prone to sudden, emotional outbursts ever since the start of the semester. The fourth year Slytherins were used to it by now, and performed some damage control right away. "Blaise?" Harry asked again. "Come again? What are you talking about?"

"It is always about _you_, isn't it, Harry? You are always the centre of everything. Does it ever occur to you, in that head of yours, to ask about other people's problems and try to help _them_, for a change?"

Harry gulped, and sighed. He knew that Blaise bore difficult burdens, but it was the first time he had become the target of Blaise's wrath. "Look, Blaise, I am sorry. I thought I was helping… I felt like you needed your space, and time alone to think. I have been staying at your side, waiting for you to open up, but you never have, so…"

"Excuses, always excuses, Harry. It is always about you. Have I not been a good friend to you? Have I not been your _best friend_! But now, when I need you the most, you're not there. You run away and pretend that nothing is wrong. You won't even tell me where you go on Sundays. For all I know, you had another boyfriend somewhere in Hogsmeade. I never pegged you as a two timer. Is it fun for you or something, to exploit my feelings for you?"

"Blaise! Please stop this. This is inappropriate—it's not the time or place…" Harry grabbed Blaise's arm.

The African-Italian boy snapped and pushed Harry's hand away. "Inappropriate? What are you, mentally stunted?"

Silence followed.

Everybody knew that last comment crossed the line. Harry turned his back, and walked away. Blaise turned away as well, collecting his fallen books before stalking down the corridor. The other Slytherins silently dispersed, going about their own way, but they were well aware that something had drastically changed inside the usual Slytherin House dynamics.

The month after, Hogwarts was all abuzz with the arrival of students from foreign schools. However, nothing between Harry and Blaise changed. They didn't sit together during any of the meals or at classes; Blaise preferred to sit beside Malfoy and Harry ended up sitting beside another fourth year Slytherin. Harry forced himself to ignore his own distress. He knew Blaise was having a hard time, but being called "mentally stunted" and "self-centred" had actually hit too close to home. Maybe he should apologize? But before he could do so, Pansy told him that Blaise should be the one to apologize. Blaise apparently had insulted most of the fourth year Slytherins, and they all bore grudges—even though they understood that Blaise was going through a rough time.

When the Beauxbaton and Drumstrang students entered the great hall and performed their own entrance rituals, Harry watched the spectacle in awe, but was saddened when he turned to say something to Blaise, only to find him nowhere in sight. Harry was sitting between Crabbe and Pansy, while Blaise was on the other side of Draco, a few seats away. Not being able to sit beside Blaise made Harry feel so lonely. In the past, Blaise always chose to sit beside him, but now, their fight had truly changed everything. Maybe they would never repair their friendship. Harry shook his head. He refused to think about it anymore, so he focused his attention on the Goblet of Fire.

Draco somehow managed to get Viktor Krum to sit with them. Harry watched as the foreigner squeezed in between Malfoy and Blaise. Throughout the dinner, Harry could hear them talking rapidly about Quidditch, with Malfoy praising Krum and Blaise defending Ireland's team. He looked longingly at Blaise's side, but the more he observed, the more he realized that Krum and Blaise actually matched each other perfectly; they seemed to be enjoying each other's presence.

A new foreign emotion filled Harry's chest… something uncomfortable and very restricting.

Harry didn't like this feeling at all. And the only way he could reduce his discomfort was by hurting himself until the bodily pain washed the emotional pain away.

Maybe he should apologize.

* * *

><p>And apologize he did. When the feast was finished and everybody returned to their dorms, Harry quickly followed Blaise, Draco and Victor Krum. The three were still immersed in the debate between Irlandia's prowess and Bulgaria's capabilities. Harry grabbed Blaise's shoulder. Surprisingly, Krum was the first who tore away his attention from the discussion and turned to Harry.<p>

"Yes?"

"H..Hi. I need to talk to Blaise." Harry whispered, trying to maintain his calm. Draco turned and saw Harry, his expression softened. But Blaise didn't turn at all.

"We'll leave you two alone, then." Draco sighed, then tugged Krum. "How about you follow me? I can show you the castle before you return to your ship."

Krum grunted his approval and started walking away. He stole backward glances, until Draco dragged him around the corner. Harry sighed in relief, still maintaining his grip on Blaise's shoulder.

"Blaise, I… I want to apologize."

The Italian boy turned. Harry stared at his best friend's face, and noticing the stress lines, hollow eyes and heavy eye bags under Blaise's eyes. It seemed that insomnia attacked both of them.

"Please, Blaise. I am sorry. I… I really miss you."

"…Why do you want to apologize?" Blaise asked coldly. "Tell me."

Harry wasn't really sure, but he was shooting in the dark anyway. "I know you have been having so many problems and I didn't ask you. I am sorry. Let me be your support? Please?"

Blaise looked away. Harry became more desperate.

"Please? I miss you so much. I miss sharing everything with you. I want to…"

"Really? Then tell me where you went every Sunday." Blaise cut.

Harry looked away. "That… I can't."

Blaise shook Harry's hand off his shoulder and walked away. Harry felt very bad. He wanted to tell Blaise, he really does. But could he explain, about Marvolo? About how every Sunday he went off to Marvolo's place to spend the time with the man? The man became clingier as well, demanding Harry's whole attention using lessons, dueling practice and afternoon nap. That was why Harry increasing returned late to Hogwarts every passing week.

Harry slapped his own cheek. Damn it, he has apologized. But it wasn't enough, was it?

* * *

><p>"Hey Harry, don't you feel jealous at all?"<p>

Harry turned to see Pansy smiling, and deliberately seating herself beside him near the fire place. Harry was busy doing his homework alone. Usually Blaise would be there with him, doing their homework together; but the African Italian boy has not yet return to the old Blaise Harry knew. After the apology, Harry was expecting better treatment. But no, Blaise pretended even harder that Harry wasn't around. Or if he must, he was very civil towards Harry. Instead, he spent more and more time with Krum. Harry tried his best to not take notice.

It was not as though Harry didn't try. He tried to apologize again and again; but every time he worked up the courage, Blaise refused to give him the chance to mutter "sorry." Every time this happened, Harry ended up locking himself in the Chamber of Secrets or the Room of Requirement and hurting himself. Biting his wrist was an old habit, while practicing dueling hexes against self made animated golems became a new favorite activity to let go off his frustration. Quidditch became a time when Harry could test the limits of his flying ability; he continued to try very dangerous maneuvers that only a handful of professionals dared to attempt. He wanted to challenge Krum, yet until that day, he didn't know how. Harry didn't want to pick a fight.

"…Why?"

Pansy looked taken aback. "Well, if you still need to ask why, maybe it is better this way. You are actually playing with his feelings, aren't you?"

"Pansy, I never play with anybody's feelings. It's Blaise's own decision if he wants to see it that way," Harry retorted harshly. How could anyone come to the conclusion that he was playing with others' feelings, when the thought had never even crossed his mind?

"Don't you know how important you are to Blaise?"

"He is the one ignoring me. I keep trying to apologize, but he refuses to even look me in the eyes."

"…he is stubborn arse, that's why. Aren't all men?" Pansy sighed. Harry wanted to snap at her, because Harry himself was a man and he was not stubborn; when Pansy continued her train of thought.

"And you are too clueless. You are ignorant to a fault, Harry. You should know what Blaise thinks about you by now. Didn't you get a ring from him? I remembered seeing it early last year. Did you lost it too?"

Harry covered the ring with his other hand. Usually the ring was protected with a notice-me-not charm, and luckily Pansy didn't notice it as well. The spell Marvolo cast on it was quite strong.

Harry shook his head. "No. I put it inside my luggage for safe keeping."

Pansy frowned. "Maybe that's why? Maybe Blaise wants to see you wear it all the time? Anyway, don't you feel sad and angry that Blaise has been ignoring you, and, dare I say—replacing you with that foreigner from Drumstrang?"

That question pierced Harry's heart. He knew Blaise had been ignoring him; but replacing him with Victor Krum brought the pain and anger to a new level. Harry bit his lip. He hated the thought, of being easily replaced. Was he really that replaceable?

"I do," Harry answered coldly. "I don't like the fact that Blaise is ignoring me, but he is not replacing me. Don't talk about Blaise like that."

Pansy shrugged. She opened her own book and started to read.

"Oh, by the way, you are invited to my baby brother's shower party."

Harry raised his eyebrow. "Aren't you the only child?"

Pansy smiled. "No, my mother will be giving birth soon. I am looking forward to it. I am hoping to see my brother by January, at the earliest."

Harry couldn't help but smile back. "Congratulations."

Pansy accepted the congratulations gracefully and they both continued studying. However, Harry's head was filled with suspicious thoughts regarding the truth behind Pansy's question. The girl might be a chatterbox; but she was a Slytherin as well. She knew how to manipulate an ugly truth to sound innocent enough.

* * *

><p><em>If he couldn't believe me, if he could replace me with a new person so easily, then I don't need him <em>_after al__l._

It was all he could think about as Harry fumed in the Slytherins' living room. After pacing a bit, he rushed towards his own bed. Everything had gone to hell.

The evening had started out normally enough. Dinner came and went, and then the champions were selected. Everybody was glad when one Beauxbaton girl, one Hufflepuff fifth year and Victor Krum were selected as the champions of the tournament. But when his name, Harry (bloody) Potter, was called as well, Harry had felt the ground rush up to meet him.

Nobody believed him when he said he didn't put his name into the goblet. Everybody was fixated on accusing Harry of cheating, instead of focusing on the fact that Dumbledore was the one who'd cast the age line. As powerful as Harry might be, there was no way he'd have been able to cross that line without destroying it completely, hence leaving trails. And since he was a Slytherin, everyone in the school had decided to hate him anyway based on that fact alone.

Professor Snape, his guardian, was the only teacher who harbored no suspicion against Harry. Instead, the Potions Master argued the reverse—somebody was trying to frame Harry. However, his efforts were for naught, since most of the judges and people in Hogwarts were all, honestly, ignorant fools. Even Dumbledore remained silent, leaving Professor Snape to argue alone against all the prosecutors. Professor Moody pointed out the possibility of a person trying to trick Harry into the tournament by entering his name under a new school. Mr. Barty Crouch also pointed out that, due to the magical binding agreement, nobody was allowed to refuse competing after their name was selected by the Goblet of Fire. Thus, Harry was officially declared as the fourth champion of Hogwarts.

Harry didn't expect much support from his Slytherin house, but he was glad that at least his classmates believed him. All the Slytherin Fourth years backed him up, except Blaise. The African Italian boy straight up accused Harry to his face on how cunning Harry was, to be able to trick the Goblet and cross Dumbledore's age line. He also pointed out how selfish Harry was being (again!) for keeping secret the method to passing the age line, even though Blaise was supposedly his 'best friend and boyfriend'. Blaise ended his tirade by accusing Harry of 'pretending to be innocent all the bloody time' and being a bloody 'attention whore'. Wasn't Blaise's attention enough for him?

The Slytherin table had fallen silent by the time Blaise delivered that last stinging blow, and then Blaise left the hall abruptly, with Krum strolling beside him. Several Slytherins caught Blaise muttering under his breath about how he would support Krum from now on, instead of Harry. Harry was left by himself to collect the last remaining shreds of his own dignity. He was then promptly dragged to the Slytherin dungeon by Pansy and Draco.

If being a 'best friend' entitled Blaise to be that much of an arsehole, Harry decided that Blaise was not worthy of his apology. Harry only felt better after biting his wrist a bit harder than usual. The pain felt familiar, and somehow comforting. But he wanted to hex something. Badly.

At least he still had Professor Snape on his side. And Harry was very certain that Marvolo would believe him as well.

* * *

><p>Harry's mind went blank as he witnessed what was happening in front of his eyes.<p>

When he'd Portkey'ed into Riddle Manor that weekend, ready to vent about how Blaise was such an arsehole, ready to duel Marvolo for stress release (the man always come out with the most powerful and the most creative spells imaginable—so far Harry never managed to defeat the man in any duel practice they had. But this time, Harry needed to be hexed and hexed. He knew Marvolo's hexes would be painful and Marvolo could defend himself against Harry well—more satisfying than fighting self made golems), he was abruptly stopped by the house-elf.

"Master is busy at the moment, young sir. Perhaps you can wait for him in his study room."

Usually Harry would obediently follow orders, but that week had been so despondently bad, he desperately needed to vent. He wanted someone to listen to him, and he needed to know that Marvolo was on his side as well.

So he stubbornly pushed the elf away and opened the door to Marvolo's private chambers. They had been spending more and more time there these days, cuddling and kissing, and Harry was slowly warming up to the much older man. So with great confidence that Marvoo wouldn't mind his surprise visit, Harry opened the door.

In front of him, Marvolo was kissing and petting Blaise's mother Esme, and the lady looked like she was in heaven.

The walls were closing in. Everything in Harry's peripheral vision shattered into a million pieces. The thing he had been most afraid of, ever since Pansy had forced him to open his eyes to the ugly truth, was materializing in front of him. Marvolo was kissing the lady. He was kissing her, which meant that Marvolo loved Esme. Which meant that Harry was being replaced by Esme. Simple as pie.

Marvolo and Esme stopped their pawing of each other when they saw Harry standing in front of the door. Esme smirked triumphantly, but Marvolo was silent and appeared stoic. The man's face was devoid of emotion, the perfect poker face.

"Harry Potter." Esme greeted.

Harry could hear his own broken voice asking, "…Didn't you say that you loved me?" _Only __me__? _

Marvolo's expression didn't even change. "You made that assumption by yourself."

Harry was overwhelmed by a crushing sense of embarrassment, hurt and pain. His heart started to pump so hard, too hard. His face felt completely hot, and the familiar feeling of disappointment came rushing back.

He should have known.

"_Do you love me?" _

_The question hung __i__n the air for some time, and neither one of them moved. Harry watched Marvolo with __wide__ eyes, giving __him his__ complete attention, with his heart beating fast. There was a big, big hope inside his heart; __a thrilling sense of anticipation__ for the assurance that he was right. Marvolo __did__ love him. He __**did**__. _

_He __must__… right? _

_Marvolo rose from where he was seated and walked slowly towards Harry. He stood in front of the boy, so close__ly__ that Harry's knees were touching Marvolo's pants. The older man bent down, and he tilted Harry's chin up. Their eyes met, the clear brown __irises__ mee__ting__ the prettiest green. _

_Harry closed his eyes when Marvolo started kissing him. Harry was happy he was familiar with kisses already; now he could tell that Marvolo's kisses __meant that__ Marvolo loved him. Percy was right; kisses are given when you love somebody. And Marvolo loved Harry. So Harry must be in love with Marvolo as well. That was the only explanation __for__ why the kisses felt so good and gentle. _

_The older man then took his hand and kissed his knuckles, where the __Portkey__ ring __en__circled. _

_And so, __that night,__ he let Marvolo ha__ve__ his way with him. He __let the older man remove__ his clothes and __romance him in a naked rutting session; he allowed himself to be swept up in a moment of sweetness__. Harry surrendered his all for Marvolo. _

Harry should have known.

Staring at how happy and satisfied Esme looked on the bed woke him up. Shattered his imagination. Knocked some sense into Harry's mind. Not only Blaise, but Marvolo as well. He was becoming more pathetic than he was four years ago.

There was no such thing as love. And Harry was easily replaceable.

"Oh, you have a visitor." Esme purred. She sounded very pleased and content. "What a rude guest, entering without knocking… Potter? How come you are here?"

Her smile disgusted Harry. His anger boiled over. Harry clenched his fists, only to feel the ring around his finger. The ring he had been staring at whenever he daydreamed about Marvolo. It embarrassed Harry now to acknowledge how idiotic he had become.

So, he pulled the ring from his finger and threw it at Marvolo's face. In his anger, Harry subconsciously streamed forward a torrent of wandless magic, imploding the area around him. When it was over, there were huge dents in the brick walls. The furniture around him was in splinters.

In his burst of uncontrollable magic, Harry Disapparated himself out of Riddle Manor.

* * *

><p>He ended up in the middle of the forest. Harry immediately fell onto the ground, for he had Splinched himself in his impulsive Disapparation, and he'd lost his left foot. He stared at his foot-less ankle, wincing at the dripping blood.<p>

Pain overcame Harry's senses, and he screamed as loudly as he could to offset the sudden pain. He felt his magical core slowly coursing through his body; as he worked to return his body to its normal state, his Splinched foot was slowly mended. Tears flooded his face, and he screamed until he was hoarse. But Harry was fine with the pain. The pain helped him forget what he'd just seen.

And then, he felt something approaching him. Something that possessed a huge amount of wild, uncontrollable, beastly magic was closing in. Harry screamed even louder, trying to scare the source of magic away.

Before he realized it, Harry was eye to eye with a big, monstrous beast with piercing yellow eyes.

A second later, Harry realized that he was staring into the eye of a dragon.

* * *

><p>The next chapter is typed out and betaed already. But I will still make some changes.<p>

Thank you for all of you who still like this and stand by me. Ja.


	27. Chapter 27

Thank you very much for the support!

Betaed by Blind_Alchemist. But I added some parts, so any grammar mistake is mine.

Enjoy!

* * *

><p>Sometimes even Marvolo himself didn't understand what he was thinking.<p>

After the merger between his older hardened self and his younger idealist self, the Dark Lord wasn't the same Dark Lord who ruled with an iron fist (before his self-imposed banishment by the prophecy). He used to have a one track mind. He'd imposed a ruthless yet effective way to rule over the Wizarding World— through fear. Now, he was compelled to follow and manipulate the proper, intricate channels of politics and procedures so that he could control the Ministry.

Because human worked better when they think they are doing the right thing. And Marvolo loved to do the mind game required to persuade wizards to follow his cause. That was something he lost when he started slicing up his soul.

The changes had initially been set in motion due to his first Horcrux. The first Horcrux had come from a piece of his youngest self who was so idealist and prideful, who was confident enough that on his charms alone, he could guide the Wizarding World 'to a better place'. However, his fear of death had caused him to fracture his soul, and with his first Horcrux entrapped in a diary, Tom Riddle became Voldemort, the formidable Dark Lord who ruled through fear and intimidation.

Now, although Marvolo was actually grateful that he had most of his soul back (he still had one Horcrux left for insurance), his mind was no longer on one track. The traces of his younger self who wanted to win over humanity's hearts with his charms, merged with his older, harsher, more vicious self. On the other hand, his younger self was a firm believer that being alone and independent symbolized a type of strength, while his older self had just learned to open up to a mere boy, one Harry Potter (the child he should have killed, who instead had caused him to lose it all, yet also brought him back, years later, to his current successful position).

This mixture of these two souls and their divergent views clashed at times. In fact, such an incident occurred a mere minute ago, when Marvolo had found himself unable to respond properly to Harry asking him '_didn't you say __that__ you love__d__ me?'_

The younger part of his mind was telling him to throw it in the boy's face and tell him that it was all just pretend, that Harry had made a conceited presumption of arrogantly owning Marvolo. His older self was telling him to grovel at Harry's feet and beg for the boy's forgiveness. His inner Voldemort was laughing because the monster thrived in others' obvious misery.

He hadn't believed his own eyes when he saw on the news that Harry had been elected as the fourth Hogwarts champion for the annual Triwizard tournament. Somebody had to be using Harry as one of their pawns (his first guess was Dumbledore, although he couldn't fathom the intention)… without his permission!

Marvolo had been trying to calm himself down with a quick and dirty sexual favour, courtesy of his slave, when Harry had suddenly barged through the door. No one had ever dared perform such a bold act. Everybody in his life had always respected him well enough to wait until they were given permission to enter. Clearly Harry had no such respect for him.

But disrespectful or not, at the sight of the boy standing in the doorway, Marvolo's heart stopped beating for a moment. His mind went blank.

In the middle of his muddled, mental chaos, he gave a horrid answer.

"_You __apparently__ made that assumption __on your own__." _

He could only watch as the boy reddened, then suddenly paled to a sickly white color, and finally, turned red again, this time from anger. He hadn't anticipated the sudden burst of wandless magic—his mind had been racing, trying to decipher whether he'd made a mistake. He couldn't believe his eyes when he saw Harry throw away the ring.

_That ring_! Another source of deep contention between his mature and younger self. Marvolo could have chosen another Portkey, such as a generic necklace, or even a boring piece of parchment. A ring was a rather intimate choice—in pureblood Wizarding society, wearing a ring symbolized the unbreakable bond between a lover and his betrothed. Somehow Marvolo's more mature side won that round; he reasoned that the ring would protect the boy from any other suitor ['read: pest'] that would otherwise think to bother his Pet. Blaise was the number one pest in his life who wouldn't back down even after seeing Harry with the ring, so Marvolo had pounced upon his mother. It was the worst punishment Marvolo could scheme up—exploiting the pest's own beloved mother against him).

For a second, Marvolo felt a strange ache in his chest as Harry angrily threw away the ring.

But before he could speak again, Harry was gone. All that remained was a severed foot and a pool of blood leaking into the floorboards. Marvolo's mind started to race, while the voices in his head both agreed that the situation was dire. Harry had to be in serious pain, having Splinched himself in his sudden departure.

In the next few moments, Marvolo had no idea how he handled Esme. Nor did he care.

Reaching down, he picked up the ring and kissed it, whispering a Pointing Spell onto it.

* * *

><p>Harry's heart was in his throat.<p>

He was staring back into a huge dragon's eyes, trying not to flinch as the puffs of hot breath hit his face. Harry swallowed as he took in the sight of the wide wings, long body, and thorny, spiky tail. The boy tried to scoot back, but he still not properly healed yet and could only wince. The little gestures prompted the dragon to find Harry interesting. The yellow pupils constricted, focusing on Harry's face, and his snout was suddenly an inch away from Harry's chest, trying to detect the boy's scent.

Harry remained frozen as the snout sniffed around his leg, but he couldn't help but bite back a moan. His leg had stopped bleeding, but his magical aura was desperately still trying to mend the missing foot. Without the help of Madam Pomfrey, this kind of injury might result in permanent disfigurement. Even when he was being physically abused at the Dursleys', Harry had never suffered such an injury like this.

Out of the blue, the dragon roared loudly. Flames engulfed Harry's body.

Shouting, Harry tried to shield himself with his arms, when he suddenly jerked awake. His leg was being licked by the dragon, which was sniffing around and lapping up the area of his wound. And then Harry realized that the dragon had helped him; the skin around the wound was now cauterized and starting to dry, forming wrinkles and stemming the bleeding.

Slowly, Harry placed his left hand onto the Dragon's snout.

"…Thank you."

The dragon didn't react except to continue licking the wound over and over again. Suddenly, they heard voices. The dragon lifted its head in alertness. It stood up, spreading its wings.

Within minutes, the dragon was gone, and it seemed almost as though the past half hour had been a dream. If not for the burnt footless leg he now had, Harry would have suspected as much. Harry wasn't given much of a chance to contemplate what had happened, as a big man with a dog came running hurriedly towards him.

"Are you alright?" the man asked, and Harry saw it was Hagrid the Groundskeeper. Harry remembered the dog had helped guide him home many semesters ago, after he'd gotten lost in the Forbidden Forest during that dreadful Care of Magical Creatures lesson.

"I am fine," Harry managed to provide his standard answer to questions like this. The man stopped to catch his breath, while the dog came nearer to Harry and sniffed. The dog stiffened and sauntered towards Harry, sniffing and licking at the burnt, black wound.

"…'Arry Potter!" Hagrid just now recognized who the boy in the forest was. "What are you doing in this deep neck of the forest… Merlin's beard! What happened to your leg?"

"It was…" Harry closed his eyes, trying to come up with an acceptable-sounding answer. "I carelessly Splinched myself after witnessing something so shocking it left me with a broken heart" sounded far too incredulous, as well as mortifying. "I, uh, fell after taking a hike."

The dog barked, as though arguing that Harry was lying. Harry tried to smile, but his mind went blank; his adrenaline levels had plummeted and now he was very lethargic. The familiar sensation of pain hit him hard before he passed out. It felt as though everything inside him was turning upside down; everything in his life had gone unbearably wrong.

"'Arry! Hang in there! I will call for help!" Hagrid told him, and then the groundskeeper started apologizing for something-or-other… which Harry failed to catch as he drifted away.

* * *

><p>Albus Dumbledore was shocked out of his mind when he received Hagrid's call to him from the mirror. Harry Potter had been found inside the Forbidden Forest, bearing a burnt, footless leg. Immediately he called Fawkes to bring the boy to Poppy, while he himself rushed to the Floo network in order to call Severus.<p>

Severus was worried about Harry. The Potions Master had been telling Albus how Harry seemed to be more and more closed off, especially after the big fight with Blaise Zabini. And ever since he'd been chosen as the fourth Triwizard champion, Harry had been simply allowing others to continue harshly criticizing him. Being in Slytherin House offered minimal relief for Harry—at least Draco and the other Slytherins gamely supported him.

Severus was shocked upon hearing the news about Harry. He didn't even wait for the Headmaster to finish explaining before changing his robes and opening up the Floo network, arriving immediately at the infirmary. However, both Headmaster and Potions Master were forced to wait as Pomfrey, in order to administer emergency medical treatment, closed off the area surrounding Harry's bed.

Albus took the chance to relay to Severus Hagrid's story. The half-giant could not stop apologizing, with tears of guilt leaking from his eyes. Apparently, he'd been making his usual rounds in the Forest with the dog called Padfoot by his side (after they were saved from the dementors, both decided to stay in the forest and Hagrid did his usual job as the groundkeeper in secret. Only Albus and Severus knew this), when he'd spotted four cages. They were full of dragons. There were a lot of dragon handlers around these parts, but one cage held the most beautiful (according to Hagrid) creature he'd ever seen. This beautiful creature was growling, looking longingly outside its cage, wishing for freedom. Before he knew it, Hagrid had held out his pink umbrella (he had stolen and kept it upon his escape from Azkaban, and now kept it by his side at all times) and had uttered "Open." Apparently the spell worked, and so the dragon was set loose.

After that, things seemed to go wrong. The handlers became panicked and they started to run after the dragon; Hagrid, who knew the forest better than any of them and who was also the one directly responsible for their distress, started running past the handlers. He took a shortcut, trying to outrun the dragon so that he could catch it in the middle of a clearing. When he thought he'd finally caught up with the dragon, he saw a kid lying on his back, emitting a foul, burnt smell. It turned out to be Harry.

Severus looked like he wanted to personally strangle the half giant when Albus was finished with his story. Albus tried to calm him down. After all, Poppy would be able to mend the boy's wounds, and then they could all discuss things calmly from that point. The one question they needed to know the answer to, before taking any further action, was—what was Harry doing by himself, deep in that forest?

Four hours went by. Finally, Poppy, her face pale and tired, emerged from the secluded quarantine. Albus offered her a seat and some water to drink, and she took the offer graciously. Severus, however, was not above pushing her for information on his protégée's (protégée, not son, yes, definitely not. He hadn't adopted Harry as of yet. Yet…) condition. Poppy took her time, weighing her words before telling them that Harry would be alright… mostly.

"His leg was Splinched. It appears to be a textbook case of accidental Splinching, from Disapparating incorrectly. But the burnt portion of his leg—it was by dragon's fire, so it was harder to treat. His leg is covered with fourth degree burns. It took me two hours to regrow his skins and nerves, in order to connect to his severed foot. The skin is still blackened, but I think tomorrow his leg will return to its usual colour. I can regrow the bones, but unfortunately I can't regrow everything completely and properly. How this accident happened, I am not sure. Shouldn't the wards surrounding Hogwarts have prevented any Apparating and Disapparating in the first place? And how on earth was there a dragon inside the forest? And the most important question is—where is the missing foot? If I get ahold of it, I can attach it back properly, without having Harry go through the nasty experience of re-growing a brand new one."

"They did not find a foot anywhere near him," Albus spoke in a grave voice. He had already sent Hagrid to search for the lost foot, to no avail. The dragon handlers had actually had a more fruitful search—within an hour, they had caught the Hungarian Horntail somewhere behind the highest hill of the forest. It had been foraging, trying to find something. For what exactly, the handlers didn't know.

"But the extent of his injuries doesn't end there. His organs… Where should I start?" the mediwitch bit her lip. "They are all over the place. They are not in their proper positions within the body. I have tried to move some of them; but the most important organs are too sensitive to magic, and if I tried to physically force them into their proper places, I might induce a massive heart attack. Now I can only put him in _stasis_, while his own bodily functions and magical core slowly repair what was damaged. I am pretty much useless as it is—if by tomorrow Harry's magical healing properties still haven't repositioned the organs, he will need to immediately go to St. Mungo's."

"Why can't we send him there now?" Severus demanded.

"Because his magical core is wavering, it's unstable—they wouldn't be able to operate him now." Poppy shook her head. "You know it as well as I do—Harry has the most amazing healing power we have ever seen. Maybe it was because of his …background, but it's a double-edged sword now. All we can do is to wait."

Severus was a step away from pulling back the curtain. Poppy immediately stopped him. She asked the Potions Master to give Harry at least one night away from prying eyes, to recover. Initially, Severus defied the warning, but in the end he relented when Albus took him out of the infirmary altogether.

* * *

><p>It was definitely not guilt, Marvolo mused to himself as he slowly walked through the Hogwarts corridor. Oh, the nostalgia. He had left the school so many years ago. He had been young, idealistic, and full of grand plans. Now, he felt like returning into the comforting embrace of Hogwarts once again. Hogwarts didn't just protect her children from harm; she also protected her children from the real world too.<p>

The hour was late, and nobody was walking around. Marvolo was wearing the Portkey ring. He was nonplussed to find himself within the Chamber of Secrets once again. The locating spell he'd cast on the ring had brought him to where Harry was at that moment—and of course, it was Hogwarts. Hogwarts was the only place in the world where Harry felt safe.

He slowly followed wherever the locating spell pointed him towards. To combat boredom, he disillusioned himself with the nonexistent fear of being caught. His mind was still in a bit of chaos. He had left everything—his date (read: fuckfest) with his slave Esme, his work (he had managed to 1) come to terms with the fact that Harry had been selected as the fourth champion of the Triwizard competition, 2) start the first stage of forming magical, explosive powder that possessed half the power of a Muggle-made atomic bomb, 3) form a new, secret army comprised of house elves).

Also, his stomach reminded him that he'd left his dinner, as well. But no matter. Somehow, whenever he closed his eyes, all he could think about was Harry's face, how those green eyes that had been so full of disappointment and embarrassment. How a body that small managed to deliver such a huge impact on him, Marvolo didn't know. But the truth was the truth, and he knew he wouldn't be able to function properly until he'd rescued his hurt pet, reattached his Splinched foot and soothed the pain away.

He was getting too dependent on Harry. Maybe that was why he was absurdly irritated whenever Harry missed one of their weekend appointments—maybe it was disappointment. Maybe the cause of his infuriating anger stemmed from watching Harry soothe or hug other people—Harry was his pet, his and his only.

In the past, when he was the most vicious Dark Lord, many had hated and feared him, and it had never bothered him before. But now, he didn't want his Pet to leave him because he was being a bad master.

So he entered the infirmary and destroyed the protective wards that Poppy had constructed. Marvolo sneered at how weak those wards were. How would she know if he took Harry with him now? Who was looking out for Harry's safety? Certainly not that stupid matron. Poppy was four years his junior and had been one of the slowest Ravenclaws of the House when Marvolo was still attending Hogwarts. And she still was just as slow.

He pulled out the curtain and watched Harry lying, still as death, on the bed. While Harry was usually a light sleeper, at times he could doze like a corpse: stiff, unmoving, and almost not-breathing, as though he were afraid of getting attacked by something in his dreams. Marvolo sat beside the bed, pulling out the blanket from underneath the child.

When he saw the burn scars slowly mending in front of him, Marvolo became angry. Who had dared burn his pet's leg? Shouldn't a mediwitch know that burning a severed body part, while effective short-term, was not the best way to stop bleeding? Was she that stupid?

Marvolo touched the boy's forehead and drained his own magic inside the boy's head, concentrating the healing elements of Harry's magical core into the damaged leg. In the process, he found that not only had Harry lost his foot, he'd actually caused quite a lot of damage internally. While no organs were lost, some were in disarray—his heart was on top of his stomach instead of his lungs, his small intestines were wrapped around his liver, and his left kidney was about to fail. The strong impact of Harry's botched Disapparation against the Riddle Manor's strongest anti-Apparation wards _and_ Hogwarts' impenetrable ward had caused this terrible damage, and had once again demonstrated the strength of Harry's magical core.

No wonder his leg hadn't healed yet.

But as powerful as Harry was, Marvolo was the Dark Lord, and even Harry's magic was no match. Marvolo slowly let his magic intertwine with his Pet's, gently pushing every organ back into its proper place, re-routing all the blood vessels back to their proper channels. It was an intensely difficult, delicate task; one false or over-hasty movement might cause a blood clot or induce a heart attack. Marvolo also reattached the severed foot, letting Harry's innate healing take over from there.

After an hour or so, Harry began to show signs of improvement. His leg bones were back to normal; now it was only the matter of reattaching the severed nerves. Marvolo was still deep in concentration when he heard a masculine, hoarse voice call for him.

"Master."

Marvolo turned to find Mad eye Moody standing by the corner of the room.

* * *

><p>A week later found Harry standing inside the Triwizard tent, ready for his first task. Around him were other contestants; all of them looked pale. Each was accompanied by their own mentor; Victor Krum with Kakaroff; Fleur Delacour with Madame Maxime; Cedric Diggory with Professor Sprout. Harry, thinking that he would be alone, was surprised to find Professor Snape staying beside him.<p>

He was the only one sitting in a chair. His leg had been reattached and it felt better and better each day, but it was still painful for Harry to stand or walk for prolonged periods of time. In the end he had resorted to using a cane. The sight of him limping through the corridors had softened or shamed some of the Hogwarts students who had previously only sneered at him. But not all the students took pity on him. Harry could not help but feel relieved that Ron Weasley was not there to taunt him. The boy had been detained away from Hogwarts for several months now, ever since the World Cup; on suspicions of conjuring the Dark Mark.

His limping would prove to be a disadvantage, especially for the first task. Professor Snape had requested that the task be altered for Harry's sake—either via exemption from the task ("Impossible," said Crouch) or by allowing Snape to accompany Harry during said task ("Cheating is not allowed," Kakaroff protested). In the end, all he could do was give Harry some pain relieving potion, and reassure the child that everything would be fine.

Harry didn't care either way; he refused to allow himself to feel anything. He was numb, and it felt so damn good. This feeling of caring for nothing, fearing nothing, was very calming. He had not spoken a word for the past week. Ever since he'd woken up in the infirmary, he'd refused to answer anyone's questions. It wasn't as though they needed him or even cared about him anyway. Being numb was a relief after all that happened.

When the champions were asked to choose an object from the bag, Harry was allowed to go first, since he was the one injured, and also the smallest champion. Harry put his hand inside the bag. It didn't take long for him to figure out that little miniature dragons inside the bag were fighting with each other. Harry waited for them to finish, and suddenly he felt tiny claws crawling into his hand. Harry withdrew his fist to find the miniature of the very dragon he'd met up with in the forest, looking smug, as if saying "I won." Apparently it was the truth, because all the other miniature dragons that were chosen by the other champions looked dejected and beaten. Everyone in the tent was staring jealously at the preening Hungarian Horntail in Harry's hand.

One by one, each champion emerged from the tent mouth, in order to face their dragon. Harry was the last one to leave, and Professor Snape had to be dragged away by Professor Sprout so that he would stop hovering over Harry. Harry didn't watch his professor go. He silently fixated on the miniature dragon purring in his hand. Suddenly he heard someone entering the tent. The figure stood in front of him.

"Harry." Harry lifted his face, looking into Blaise's worried eyes.

"Harry," the boy called. Harry's expression was placid, unreadable. He was surprised and not surprised to see his former best friend standing there. Harry knew he was very, very replaceable in Blaise's eyes; at this point, he couldn't possibly mean anything to the other boy. Harry felt no need to act as though he were somehow still a part of Blaise's life.

"Harry, I … I am sorry."

The apology fell on deaf ears. Blaise seemed to feel the urge to physically prove his affection, because he suddenly grabbed Harry's other hand and kissed it. "I am really sorry, Harry. I was a fool. I apologize. I was very rude and mean. I was an idiot. …So please, please be safe. I am supporting you. I am really, truly sorry."

Harry didn't even blink. Slowly, he stood up when his name was called. He let Blaise help him walk towards the entrance, and from there, Harry limped by himself towards the far end of the arena.

He left Blaise silently, and never once did he look back.

* * *

><p>The arena was surrounded by cage-like fence, and strewn with boulders. Harry knew he needed to collect the golden egg from the dragon's nest, but for what purpose? Even if he knew the answer, he really didn't care either way. He could just sit on the rock and wait until the judges disqualified him.<p>

Suddenly, the dragon, the Hungarian Horntail appeared before him. The crowd collectively held their breath for him, but Harry felt nothing. Certainly not fear. The dragon lifted its nose, snuffled his back, and bit his robe. Harry silently let the dragon do what it wanted. He didn't even react when the dragon suddenly picked him up gently in its mouth and carried him into its own nest, placing him in between several of its eggs, which happened to be right beside the golden egg.

Harry sank into the soft lining of the nest and let his body drape over the golden egg, while the dragon perched itself on the nest and snuggled its collection of real eggs, one golden egg, and one boy named Harry Potter. The boy closed his eyes, starting to doze off, while his hand started patting the dragon's snout in front of him. The dragon purred in delight before falling asleep itself.

The crowd was silent.

* * *

><p>The judges' arguing was so loud it carried over the arena.<p>

Some wanted to give Harry Potter full marks for being the fastest one to touch the golden egg. Others wanted to award Harry Potter zero marks, for the boy hadn't shown bravery, hadn't done anything at all really—just ended up falling asleep with the dragon. There was no challenge or skill in that. But another judge pointed out that only those possessing the most magical talent could tame a dragon like that. The first task had showed how massive Harry Potter's magical talent was. Another argued that while it was true that Harry was the first to get the golden egg, he was also the slowest to come out from the arena (the dragon handlers had had one hell of a time separating the dragon from Harry, for every time they tried to collect Harry and the golden egg, the dragon roared hard at them, burning everything in its path), and thus, he should be awarded half marks. Especially since Harry himself didn't look like he cared at all about the tournament—he seemed to care more about sleeping with a large, dangerous dragon than achieving full marks.

Severus Snape didn't care either way. He was beyond relieved that his charge was still safe. But there was an unexpected dilemma: the dragon liked Harry too much to let him go. Eventually Harry woke up and slowly walked out of the nest. When the dragon tried to catch him, Harry shook his head, and immediately he was snatched by one of the dragon handlers. The dragon roared and went on a rampage, but by then the dragon handler had deposited Harry safely into Severus' arms.

He went straight to the infirmary. After making sure Harry was fine, the Potions Master had just stepped out when he saw a very guilty and worried looking Blaise Zabini by the door.

"Mr. Zabini."

"Sir. May I see Harry? I—I need to speak with him."

Severus sneered, but refrained from chiding the boy. He had some idea about what had happened between the boy and his child. Draco had given him a full summary of what had happened, and Severus knew that the Italian boy had deeply hurt his child. In truth, Blaise deserved Severus' full dislike; he deserved his sneers.

"He is not well enough to meet you, Mr. Zabini."

"But you don't understand. He needs me, sir," the boy stubbornly argued, in a strange voice. "This is important!"

Severus couldn't help but sneer. Such arrogance. "What makes you think that he needs _you_?" He emphasized the last word.

The boy in front of him stopped arguing and went red, as though embarrassed for himself.

"Harry does not ask for anything, _thanks to you_." Snape's upper lip curled. "Don't you have anything else to do, Mr. Zabini?"

The boy cast his eyes downwards, and shook his head. Severus bit back the urge to give this boy some kind of punishment. But personal grudges were not reason enough for administering detention, so he refrained from saying anything more and simply returned to his dungeon. He had a floo-call to St. Mungo's private mind healer to make.

* * *

><p>Blaise felt so wretched.<p>

His life was coming apart. His recent attitude wasn't something he could be proud of. Not only had he childishly vented his frustration over his family situation onto his friends, he'd also driven Harry away with his chiding remarks. He'd had no right to accuse Harry of being an attention whore (when, in reality, he knew that Harry ran away from attention as best he could). However, he only realized what he was doing after Draco Malfoy (of all people) punched him one day in the Slytherin common room.

That day, Draco had walked up to him, punched him on the face—so hard that Blaise fell over backwards—and had called him an idiot. Before Blaise could react, Pansy Parkinson came forward and slapped his cheek. Then, inexplicably, she wrapped her arms around him and hugged him.

"_We understand that you are __severely stressed__ out __because of your__ family," _the girl cried,_ "But __that does not give you an excuse__ to hurt everybody around you. We can only tolerate so much, and we cannot forgive you when you accuse Harry __of__..those foul things. We are Slytherin, Blaise, so keep your __wits__about you! Pull yourself together!__ You are __being__ so emotional __right now__ that you are even worse than that Gryffindor, Weasel!" _

It took a full day for Blaise to return to normal. In time, the full realization of what he'd done hit the Italian African boy, and when it did, he had never felt so ashamed. He was jealous, not of Harry, for becoming the fourth champion, but of the others who doted on Harry. Blaise used to flatter himself by thinking that Harry only needed him in his life, but apparently, even without Blaise around, the boy did just fine for himself. He'd even become the second champion of Hogwarts. And Harry seemed comfortable and happy being with other people as well. It made Blaise feel emasculated, disregarded; as though he were but a small and insignificant part of Harry's life. He couldn't accept the truth, and he chose to hurt the (already mentally weak) boy with his biting words, subconsciously hoping that Harry would beg for his forgiveness and submit his full attention to Blaise in order to re-gain his approval.

People tease their crushes all the time, especially during kindergarten. But Blaise had taken the 'teasing' too far, and it was unacceptable. It was what Pansy had been trying to tell him all along.

And as luck would have it, he was too late. The Hogwarts students were being officially informed that Harry had been found gravely injured in the forest. _Why_, _how_, _when_ and other questions remained unanswered, spurring a torrent of gossip and suspicious theories among the Houses. When Harry finally emerged the infirmary three days after, limping pathetically on a cane, looking pale as a sheet, Blaise felt an indescribable pang of guilt. He tried to fight the crowds to approach Harry, but Professor Snape was always near, preventing Blaise from pulling Harry aside for a private conversation. Harry didn't seem to notice.

Inside the tent, Blaise felt the need to take Harry away, bring him to safety. After watching Delacour and Cedric fighting with their dragons, he suddenly began to fear for Harry's life. He'd managed, with great difficulty, to slip into the champion's tent illegally, and it was there that he approached Harry.

The deadly calm, empty-eyed boy stared at him vacantly, displaying no signs of recognition whatsoever. Fearing the worst, Blaise had started to ramble. He stuttered an apology, started over, and then tried to apologize for his pathetic-sounding apology, explaining how his guilt had prevented him from sleeping properly over the past few days. This was what he'd desperately wanted—the chance for a private talk with Harry, but the fourth champion wouldn't even look at him. Blaise initially thought Harry was still angry—but when Harry didn't acknowledge him, even when Blaise escorted him from the tent, Blaise realized something else was horribly wrong.

And now Harry was being cooped up again in the infirmary, on strict bed rest, with Professor Snape hovering over the boy, barring away any intruders, promising to destroy them just like that dragon who refused to let Harry go.

Blaise didn't know what to do. He'd never felt so helpless in his life. He kept thinking as he and walked side by side. Neither talked, as each immersed inside their own thoughts. They were walking back from Drumstrang's ship. Krum invited Blaise to visit his cabin inside the ship that day, and Blaise, for the lack of reason to refuse, accepted the offer. The Italian African boy was still immersed in his dilemmatic situations, too deep to realize that the invitation of visiting the Drumstrang ship was one of more desperate attempt from Krum to cheer him up. And it seemed that the effort was for naught, for Blaise didn't look like he enjoyed the visit.

"Blaize?" Krum suddenly asked.

"Hmm?"

"Iz Harry your boyfriend?"

The question stopped Blaise from walking further. "Why do you ask?"

"Becauze if not I am going to take you to the ball."

Blaise didn't know what to say. "Why?"

"Because I want to be your partner for the ball." Krum suddenly looked like he was embarrassed. "Pleaze think about it first."

And Krum left Blaise alone in the corridor. Blaise didn't have the voice to call the Drumstrang champion to stop. He didn't know what to say, really. His mind was not as innocent as Harry, so he was sure that Krum at least is romantically attracted to him. But why? How? Blaise wasn't sure that Krum was gay in the first place. And why now? When it was clear that Blaise couldn't spare a time to think about anything else outside Harry, Esme and Zabini family?

Thinking back, maybe Krum has been hinting his feelings for Blaise a lot of time. Krum always sat beside Blaise in meal time. Krum preferred to listen to Blaise over Draco sometimes. Krum always asked Blaise about Hogwarts, listening as if it was the most attractive thing in the world. Sometimes Blaise even caught Krum touching him softly, subtly in every chance he got. Maybe that was why Draco had often left the two of them alone recently.

Damn, Blaise sighed. He wanted to laugh at the irony. Now he realized what Harry was doing. Harry wasn't ignoring or using him-Harry was totally oblivious. And the boy has very little self esteem that he couldn't comprehend the concept of loving another—to be there for other. And now, Blaise was in Harry's shoes with Krum chasing after him.

_Wonderful_.

He pinched the bridge of his nose before walking back to the Slytherin dorm. He needed to decide it soon. He couldn't leave Krum hanging, just like he didn't like when Harry left him hanging. And it was an immediate concern as well. Who would Harry bring to the Yule ball? For a moment Blaise guessed the secret Boyfriend of Harry whom he met every Sunday in secret. Buy Blaise chastised himself. He should believe in Harry.

When he entered the dorm, the fourth years were all there except Harry. Blaise turned to Draco to ask, but before he could say anything, Draco already answered, "Potter is not here."

"…Do you know where?"

"Snape took him." Draco shrugged. "You know how Potter has not said a single word ever since he returned from infirmary. Apparently they would visit somekind of mind healer tonight."

"Oh." Blaise looked away.

"Have you asked him to the ball yet?" Theodore Nott, the usually silence spectator, asked.

"…I don't know." Blaise shook his head. Draco patted his shoulder.

"Just think about it soon."

* * *

><p>Sorry this chapter is only 6,400 words.<p>

Next chapter: Yule Ball. And Harry's descend to madness.

By the way, there is a one shot of smut Marvolo x Harry titled 'The Difference in Preference', a spin off this story, dedicated to Krysania. If you want to see.

Thanks. Ja.


	28. Chapter 28

I am sorry for the lateness. My life is filled with career, work and study prospects at the moment. I am depending on sleeping pills to actually sleep. My head is always filled with adrenaline. And this chapter is supposed to be longer-but I am unhappy with the second part, so I will update it soon when I am strike with how to continue.

Betaed by Blind-Alchemist sama! (I will definitely upload the next part dear sister-really, really promise. just thinking which part I need to edit-I really want to put Neville in).

Enjoy!

* * *

><p>The Yule Ball was in full swing. As the ornate decorations twinkled and gleamed from their topmost positions in the Great Hall, Severus Snape could only look on in displeasure. The whole event had been too much. He tightened his arm around Harry's shoulder.<p>

Harry. His charge. _Lily's_ son. The boy hadn't uttered a single word ever since they'd found him with the burnt foot… Severus wanted to know so much more about what had really happened, but Harry stubbornly kept silent, refusing to answer any of his questions.

Severus knew he could use the _Legilimens_ spell on the boy to extract the information he wanted, but to take such a course of action would tug at his moral compass. He didn't want to be like Albus, who was known to abuse his power of Legilimency in order to invade other people's private thoughts. He respected the boy's privacy. He might be behaving foolishly, but Harry needed that respect. The boy had already opened up to him once, and Severus prayed that the boy would soon open up to him again.

Harry watched the beautiful decorations sparkling around the Great Hall without any apparent interest. His face was expressionless—not unlike that of a broken doll's. The boy was excused from taking place in the opening dance, due to his injured foot. His foot was healing nicely, but Severus and Pomfrey barred Harry completely from dancing; it would be unwise to have him undertake any strenuous movements.

Bitterly, Severus watched as three couples—Krum and Granger, Delacour and a seventh year boy, and Diggory with Chang—entered the room. They twirled, dancing gracefully; officially marking the start of the party. Harry should be in the opening dance; he should be the one launching the start of the ball… it would be a most beautiful sight. Maybe he'd be partnered with the Zabini boy…

Yet now, Harry sat in the corner with his guardian, forgotten or ignored by all others around him.

Ironically, this turn of events proved to be a bit of good news for the other, rival schools. Most of the wizards in the judge's panel were still arguing amongst each other regarding the merit of having Harry participating in their stupid tournament. Regarding his recent performance—which in itself was a controversy (had Harry actually performed? all he had done, essentially, was walk around and then take a nap)—many wanted to cover up his status as the "fourth champion." By not being there to officially open the ball, Harry's status as the fourth champion was now challengeable. Not that Harry himself particularly cared.

Ever since Harry's name had come out from the goblet, nothing good had happened. He still remembered the first and the last time he'd been taken to St. Mungo's. Harry had been sent to one of the most famous mind-healers there, a mediwitch who looked like she was dressed for a very naughty cocktail party. She promised Severus that Harry would be fine with her, that every single one of her patients loved her. However, Severus harbored deep mistrust at her words, judging from her attitude and her way of dressing. It might have been shallow of Severus to judge her by her looks, but his innate paternal instinct was screaming that something was wrong.

He was right, actually. That night, the damn mind healer tried to perform illegal Legilimency on Harry (she had not received any permission for performing mind-intrusion magic, of course). As it turned out, her efforts were fruitless, as Harry was way stronger. So instead of having his own mind invaded, Harry managed to look into the woman's mind. Evidently, she was a sociopathic predator who regularly blackmailed her patients into having illicit sexual relationships with her.

The next morning, the panicked mind healer had angrily complained to Severus, telling the Potions Master that Harry had aggressively come onto her, bullying her into spilling her own secrets. Severus didn't believe her story at all, so he ended up performing Legilimency on her. To say he was livid upon seeing what had happened would be an understatement. The mediwitch was promptly Obliviated, and Severus took Harry home from the clinic straight away.

And nothing had improved since then. Not only did the boy prefer to be silent in the company of others, he even pre-emptively requested his other professors to allow him to do his work in silence. Thus, in class, they ceased asking him verbal questions. It wasn't as though Harry didn't do his assigned work—in fact, the boy continued producing flawless essays, and successfully completing all his practical exams. He just did this all in complete and utter silence. Severus and the other professors were impressed at how strong and smart the boy was—it wasn't easy to perform wordless spells. At times, Harry did not even have to touch his wand.

They still tried to make him talk, though. Here and there, they'd spring a pop quiz on him, trying to catch him unguarded. Still, these attempts failed to elicit any reaction from him. Harry would only politely smile, and either nod or shake his head in response, but no words would ever pass his lips.

But the silence was not what bothered Severus the most. Severus knew Harry was a magically gifted child; but no matter how gifted, it was improbable that a mere student, not yet eighteen, should have the ability to cast wandless or silent magic. Maybe Harry was a child prodigy who had been hiding his ability all his life… or maybe somebody _else_ was teaching him. Severus pursed his lips. He suddenly remembered there appeared to be some sort of strange relationship between Harry and the Dark Lord… perhaps there was something deeper there, something that Harry had not divulged to him.

"Harry, I will get us some drinks. Please stay here." Severus rubbed the top of the boy's head and strolled off. By the time he returned, he saw that the Weasley couple had found Harry. The Ravenclaw girl called Penelope was sitting beside Harry, talking animatedly, while Percy Weasley stood beside Harry's other side. "We missed you." Penelope smiled gently at him before hugging the boy. Percy stood beside their chairs, one hand absentmindedly rubbing Harry's hair. "Are you alright?"

Harry nodded. Severus waited from afar, hoping that maybe Harry would start talking to the couple. He remembered that last time, at the ice cream shop, Harry had apparently preferred the company of the couple to him. But perhaps his hopes were in vain, because Harry simply stared ahead.

"I am here because Percy was invited to substitute for his busy boss, Mr. Barty Crouch," Penelope further explained, in order to fill the awkward silence. "We _did_ promise you that we'd be here."

Silence. Percy furrowed his eyebrows as the hand stroking Harry's hair paused.

"We watched the first task. It was very scary, Harry. But you did a good job. You are now in second place, tied with Krum!" Penelope's initially enthusiastic, animated tone was slowly but surely tapering as she realized there was no getting through to the boy. "…Harry, we have sent you a lot of owls since that time, but we've gotten no replies at all. What happened? There isn't anything wrong, is there?"

Harry shook his head.

"Harry, what troubles you so? Please talk to us." Using one forefinger, Penelope gently tipped Harry's chin upwards. Suddenly Harry flinched. He turned his face away.

"Harry? What…" Penelope began in a worried voice, before suddenly Harry let out what sounded like a hiss.

_"You lie. **Liar**."_

Anyone who could have overheard such a venomous tone coming from the lips of such an innocent, wide-eyed boy would have been floored. Severus could not believe that these were the first words Harry would utter since injuring his foot. The boy shook his head and reached for his cane, before quickly hop-scotching away towards the door. Penelope and Percy looked like they were too much in shock to actually chase after Harry.

Severus found himself frozen too, torn between wanting to chase the boy and giving the boy the space he obviously wanted. Some of the partygoers noticed Harry walking away, but were too immersed in the festive atmosphere to care.

One person did notice, however. Blaise started when Harry left the room, but he was tied to his chair by Draco, who held his arms and shook his head. "No, Blaise. Let him go. He doesn't want anybody right now."

Feeling helpless while reluctantly agreeing with Draco's advice, Blaise maintained his composure and stayed seated on his chair while watching as the door close behind Harry's disappearing back.

* * *

><p>The sudden anger flaring within his stomach had been totally unexpected.<p>

Harry knew he had acted out of line. Percy and Penelope had done nothing wrong—they were not the ones who'd lied to him. Yet, they were the ones who were so foolishly, stupidly in love with each other; spreading the notion that love was some kind of key to the ultimate happiness. They were the ones who told Harry that one needed to be in love in order to perform kisses and make love. That the one who would bring Harry happiness would be the one who loved him.

Those were lies, all of them. Men did not need to be in love in order to have sex or to give kisses. There was no love lost between him and Marvolo, after all. And there was definitely no love remaining between him and Blaise. Percy and Penelope were lying, they were smug and self-satisfied because they happened to be some of the more privileged ones in the world, with equal love shared between them.

_And now they dare to flaunt their perfection in front of him. _

It teed Harry off so much he actually snarled aloud. It was the first time he'd uttered anything in literally weeks. He hated them for telling him about the myth of love and happiness in the first place. He hated them for being there at the ball. He hated them for flaunting all that would never be Harry's.

"Child."

The reverie was broken; Harry was jerked away from his train of thoughts. He turned to see the man he hated most in the world, standing behind him. For a brief moment, they simply looked at one another. They were alone in the corridor—everyone else was at the ball.

"What do _you_ want?" Harry snarled. Loud enough to induce shaking within his chest.

"I want to explain what you saw the other day. Also, I saw what had happened with your foot. I healed you…"

"So you want me to grovel and say thank you?" Harry laughed humorlessly. "Fine, I will. Thank you for showing me what you really think of me."

"This is stupid, Harry. Stop being a brat and listen… "

Harry didn't wait. He flicked his hand and felt the magick within his fist shoot towards Marvolo. It was the wandless and wordless Cutting Hex he cast. Before the hex even touched Marvolo, Harry had already sent a '_Bombarda'_ attack at the man. He scooted backwards, trying to increase the distance between both of them.

Marvolo seemed to easily deflect the first hex, but he was caught off-guard by the second one. As the spell exploded on his raised arms, sintering the skin, he flicked a quick Body-Binding curse towards Harry.

The boy, as strong as he was, (and even stronger now; whenever his emotions flared like this, his powers were amplified), wasn't able to physically move about very much, due to his crippled condition. When Harry tried to dodge the curse, he tripped over the cane he used to walk. He tumbled onto the floor, landing painfully on his side.

"Harry, child, are you alright?" The concern in Marvolo's voice was sincere, but it couldn't breach the walls of Harry's angry mind. The boy bit his bottom lip until it bled, as his anger fuelled the embarrassment he felt. He couldn't even dodge a curse properly. He must have looked beyond pathetic, taking a spill like that.

His heart was nearly pumping out of its ribcage. He wanted to burst open, into a million tiny little pieces. He wanted to hurt everyone around him in a five-mile radius. Most of all, he wanted to inflict harm on the man in front of him. He wanted to show Marvolo that, deep down inside, Harry thought nothing of him, nothing at all. All those kisses and hugs and massages and nuzzles were all for nothing. If it meant nothing to Marvolo, then it was nothing to Harry. Stupid, foolish Harry, who always conveniently forgot, every single damn time, how Marvolo would repeatedly waltz into his life, love him, and then leave him in shambles. The man in front of him was the king of all liars—Harry had hung onto every single lie Marvolo had spun, just because Harry was that pathetic.

So Harry stood up, wobbling a bit, but with his wand raised, ready for a fight. For the next few minutes, he silently cast curses towards the older man; the older man responded by nonchalantly putting up some Protego spells to shield himself. Harry, however, was too blinded by rage to see that his curses weren't working—so he kept throwing curse after curse after curse.

"Fight back, coward!" Harry yelled. "Curse me! Try and hurt me like you always do!"

Marvolo didn't move an inch, but he kept his strong Protego shield in front of him. Harry growled, because no matter how much power he put into his curses and hexes, the shield refused to dissipate. Out of outrage, he jumped towards the shield, aiming to break it with the force of his own body. Marvolo was caught off guard when Harry jumped towards him; this prompted the shield to shatter the second Harry's body came into contact with it.

Harry moaned from the sudden electrifying pain, but he did not back down. And he landed right on top of Marvolo—his fist collided with Marvolo's cheek.

Both of them stumbled—Marvolo caught Harry by the waist. They tumbled to the ground—Marvolo still had Harry's small waist in his hands, and Harry's hands were still cupped around Marvolo's face.

Ignoring the sudden bout of pain, Marvolo assessed their current predicament. He looked up to find himself staring back into another pair of eyes, a very _green_ pair, filled with pain, disbelief and disappointment.

"Why, Marvolo? Is this little game of yours that much fun for you?" The question that had been asked two years ago was asked again. This time, though, Marvolo was at a loss for words. He was quite aware that, unlike before, he had no logical reason. Those past other times, Harry would have died (or been left to live as a miserable Squib) if Marvolo hadn't left. Now, he'd hurt Harry out his own insanity. His irrational need for "respect."

So he didn't answer, and watched the pair of emerald orbs moisten.

"Kill me," the boy whispered in desperation. "I can't stand to live like this anymore."

Marvolo held his breath. Harry-in-despair was the most beautiful Harry of all. A broken doll. A desperate doll. A lost child.

"Grant me this. Please keep your promise, just this once."

As much as Marvolo yearned to grant Harry his every wish, he couldn't grant this one. His first promise to the boy was something he gradually learnt that he had no intention of ever delivering.

He couldn't take the child's life. He had cultivated Harry up until now. Harry had become something that was special and irreplaceable to him. The boy had come to mean something more than simply his Horcrux; more than one of his toys, more than one of his followers, more than his treasured pet. What Harry meant to him now, was far beyond any of that. Harry was a part of him.

"Kill me."

It was very ironic that, at that very moment, Marvolo realized he was in love with Harry.

"_Please_," the boy pleaded, his eyes wet, and his cheeks flushed from rage and sadness.

The answer that came was swift and definite. "No."

Harry blinked.

"I won't let you die, Harry. No, I want you to live." Marvolo spoke each word clearly. "I need you as much as you need me."

_I need you as much as you need me. _

Harry remained stupefied; he was vaguely aware of Marvolo's hand cupping his wet cheeks. He was being straddled onto the older man's lap; immediately thereafter, he felt the familiar hotness beneath him. The sensation he'd felt ever since he'd first fallen asleep on Marvolo's lap so long ago, when he still innocent and didn't know the first thing about love.

He didn't move as Marvolo kissed him full, on the lips. He couldn't find the power to say anything, or even move, when the kiss ended. All Harry could do was stare at Marvolo in disbelief. Marvolo tilted his head and kissed the boy again. Although the boy didn't allow him any further access, the lips alone was wet and nice enough to enjoy. Their kiss tasted salty from Harry's tears. All the while, Harry didn't budge an inch.

When the older man began slowly sucking his neck, Harry snapped out of his reverie and regained control, pushing back as hard as he could. Marvolo was surprised, but did nothing as Harry hurriedly rose up from the floor. His movements were still clumsy and unstable, but the boy didn't look as though he even noticed. All he wanted to do was to get away from Marvolo as fast as possible.

Marvolo slowly rose to his feet as well. When the older man extended a hand, Harry screamed. "Don't touch me!"

Marvolo stopped. He was a tad surprised at himself for respecting the boy's need for space. Harry turned and ran, wobbling wildly as he did because of his still-healing foot, but nevertheless as fast as he could, leaving the Dark Lord alone in the dark corridor.

Unbeknownst by either Marvolo or Harry, three other people had been in the same corridor as they. They'd been hiding behind a corner and had witnessed the entire spectacle in breathless wonder.

Severus Snape turned to his left, finding Albus Dumbledore sporting his contemplating look—a dangerous look, indeed—and a very flushed Mad-Eye Moody.

If Severus had thought Harry had been reduced to nothing more than a little broken rag doll during the last few weeks, he found he was sorely mistaken. Harry Potter had apparently still retained a spark of humanity during those weeks of absolute silence. Now, however, he was a miserable, sobbing mess of a corpse. After witnessing the very shocking scene that had just transpired between Harry and the alleged Dark Lord-in-disguise, Albus immediately made him and Moody take a vow of secrecy over what they had seen. Moody was still in shock, and Severus couldn't blame him. He himself was trying hard to get over the fact that Harry Potter, his charge, was actually in some kind of physical (romantic?) relationship with the Dark Lord. And with the Dark Lord showing such uncharacteristic gentleness and protectiveness over the boy, Severus couldn't accuse the older man of being an abusive partner to Harry. It seemed that their secret relationship might also explain Harry's mysterious recent injuries. All this new information made Severus wonder how much Harry had told him was true.

Could he ever trust Harry's word again?

His conscience was quite troubled. Of course he _should_ trust his boy, but to what extent? And was Harry truly that valuable to the Dark Lord? Now that he had a better understanding of their possible relationship, Severus could understand a bit more of what was going on. Why Harry had been unable to take his eyes off Marvolo Gaunt during the World Cup. Why Harry had looked so miserable when Marvolo Gaunt had allegedly expressed anger towards him. Now, everything made sense.

Did the Dark Lord, in turn, harbor feelings for Harry?

* * *

><p>TBC. Really short chapter. I am sorry, its only 3, 500 words. Will upload the rest (I have written around 5000 words this time) as soon as possible. Really want to put Neville and Umbridge in. Also, Also, Also, I want Peter Pettrigrew dead. heheheheh *evil smirk*<p>

By the way, my dear beta pointed out that Harry seems to be autistic. ... I never realized that. Maybe? What do you think?

Review (and this will truly motivate me-because my recent stories are not well received. meh) is welcome! Thanks.


	29. Chapter 29

This is the last draft I had for this story.

I have the basic plot line up; if someone wants to continue this, please PM me to discuss. If you want to wait for me fleshing it out, then please be patient. I have hectic life now; full time work, full time study, unsatisfying relationship. If this chapter feels a bit too depressing, I apologise. If this chapter feels ridiculous (as some of the reviewer mentioned: this story's idea is so laughable that it was worse than bad) then suck it. If you like this chapter though, with all the depressing thought, I welcome you to share as well. Because I was there, and I am sure if you know how this exactly feels then we might have been in the same place in our life.

Thank you for your positive review. I warn you, this chapter is not pretty.

Enjoy.

* * *

><p>The thought was really bothering his conscience. Of course he should trust his boy, but till what limit? And was the Dark Lord really found Harry valuable? Now that he knew their possible relationship, Severus could understand some of the things happening. Why Harry looked very close to Marvolo Gaunt in the World Cup. Why Harry felt so bad when Marvolo Gaunt was allegedly angry at him. Everything just made sense.<p>

Did the Dark Lord have feelings for Harry?

* * *

><p>He dragged his useless leg and heavy body towards the castle' exit. He needed out. He needed to get out. He needed to be as far as he could from the man.<p>

_I need you as much as you need me. _

What was that? Was Marvolo mocking him again? The older man clearly never think of Harry as "important", especially shown by how easy the man think Harry would be appeased by his actions. When they first met, Harry felt he was at least bit important because he was Marvolo's host. But now, they have nothing to connect each other with. Harry couldn't speak parseltongue, Harry wasn't a good pet, Harry didn't want to be a pet anymore. He wanted more, and the boy was sure Marvolo didn't "Need him as much Harry needs Marvolo".

Everything was a joke.

Harry growled. His feet was useless, the stiff, slowly healing thing. He couldn't even dodge or attack properly because of the damn leg. He wanted to cut it off out of frustration. He kept dragging it towards the open air, towards the forest, towards humanless area. He hated them all. He wanted to be alone. He wanted to kill someone…

And he bumped into someone.

It was a crash, really. Both bodies collided hard, and Harry found himself slumped onto the wet grass. In his anger, Harry almost wanted to blow the man's head away using his magic. When he turned, however, he saw a man who looked as lost and undignified as he was. The man was very disheveled, it was clear that his suit was several days unwashed and unchanged, hair growing everywere, a thick and unruly moustache had grown around the man's face.

"Weatherby, make sure you have everything ready for my meeting in three.." the man spoke to himself, Harry noticed. "…Minister will come for a cup of tea, your report on cauldron has garnered few comment from him…"

The more Harry tried to make sense what the man was saying, the more he couldn't understand. His rage slowly subsided, replaced by somekind of concern and curiosity. It was a great distraction anyway.

"Are you alright, sir..?" he asked, tried to crawl nearer to the man. He kind of twisted his leg from the fall, but it wasn't painful enough for Harry to make him stop moving. When he managed to get nearer, Harry could see that the man was out of his mind.

"You …" Suddenly the man stopped blabbering nonsense and latched onto Harry's arm. Harry, unable to maintain his balance, fell backwards and ended up back to the grass, with the man crawling on top of his body. Harry felt his body shuddered in disgust, and his magic flared. But the man suddenly rose and moved.

"I apologize for my inappropriate… but now is not the time… I need Dumbledore, now! Please tell Dumbledore that Crouch is here, and I need to tell him something, please, be quick, before I am found…"

Harry tried to rise from his place, sensing the sense of urgency.

"Hey you there!" suddenly someone was scolding them, and Harry turned to see his DADA professor, Professor Moody, limping towards them with Marvolo behind him. Harry felt a bit relief, for now the professor could help the inebriated man. But when he saw Marvolo behind Professor Moody, he growled and tried to stand up quickly. He almost failed, but the last dignity he had left helped his resolution to stand. He quickly moved again, leaving the weird man with Professor Moody, so that he could avoid Marvolo as far as he could.

He ran to the other direction, and found himself almost near the lake. Harry slowly reduced his pace and huffed from exhaustion. Slowly everything calmed down, and Harry started to become more aware of his surrounding. He caught the sight of two big figures, one of them unmistakably Hagrid, and the other was the Headmistress of Beauxbaton.

Feeling surprised, Harry let himself caught off guard when suddenly a hand touch his shoulder. Harry turned, ready to pounce his magic when he saw Blaise's worried face near his cheek.

"Where have you been, Harry? I am—we are very worried!"

As Harry registered the number two target of his anger coming towards him, his chest started to boil again. His mind returned to its chaotic state, his cheek started to flame from anger. He snatched his shoulder away from Blaise's grip, snarling. In process, he lost his balance and fell onto the grass, but caught half way through falling when Blaise quickly caught his arm and waist. It irked Harry how easy Blaise seemed to be able to support his body. It made Harry felt even smaller and even more pathetic.

"GO AWAY!"

Blaise stopped looking worried and immediately looked pained. Although he still has his arms wrapped around Harry's body, Blaise didn't actually try to do anything else, and seemed to genuinely try to support Harry to stand right back again. It stopped Harry from screaming further, suddenly a bit of guilt slipped into his chest. He has ignored Blaise for weeks, but Blaise had ignored him for months as well. However, after everything that happened with Marvolo, everything seemed petty.

Blaise looked away and closed his eyes. "I am glad you are fine, Harry. Do… do you need my help to go back to the castle?"

Harry bit his lips. A huge NO was already on the end of his tongue, but he didn't really want to push Blaise away now. Somehow he knew that if he pushed Blaise away now, he would hurt Blaise. Despite how Blaise has been treating him lately, Harry couldn't forget how Blaise was his very first friend.

"…Harry. Let this boy go and come with me. We need to talk."

Shuddering unintentionally, Harry knew Marvolo's voice too well to ignore the sound. He quickly buried himself into Blaise, hiding from the owner of the voice.

"Harry?" Blaise sounded unsure, but Harry could felt the tall boy's heart beating faster. Sensing that Marvolo was too near, and there was no way out, Harry hissed and grabbed Blaise's robes tightly.

"Please take me away from here, " Harry pleaded. "Please."

"Harry. Don't play with fire." The voice started to contain anger, and Harry knew Marvolo must be angry because Harry refused to listen.

"Sir, I may not be able to stop you from hurting my mother, but I can protect Harry from you. Please step back, Harry doesn't want to see you." Blaise spoke, his chest shivered from rage and unsettled anger, and Harry who was glued to his chest felt it too.

"You don't know who you are speaking to." Marvolo's voice became even more dangerous. Harry realized that it would soon end with someone being hurt, so he quickly looked up and grabbed Blaise's neck.

"Stop it, Blaise. Lets go."

"…Let him go, child."

Harry shook his head, and out of rebellious impulse, snapped his head up and caught Blaise in rough, uncomfortable kiss. Blaise seemed surprised, Harry could tell from the way the boy froze; but it was quickly overridden with welcoming opening of mouth and Blaise' familiar taste.

Something flared inside Harry. It felt so good to kiss somebody else, particularly Blaise, in front of Marvolo. If Marvolo liked Blaise's mother, then Harry could do it with Blaise as well. It felt right, and it fuelled the raven haired fourth champion to deepen their kiss.

It was then Harry felt a hand grabbed his neck from behind, making Harry gasped and let go off Blaise. Harry chocked from surprise, and Blaise shouted something he couldn't really understand. And he felt himself fell onto the wet cold grass, with a huge hand came around him.

Apparently Hagrid and Madame Maxime realized that they weren't the only two people in the world, and so came just in time to see Marvolo grabbed Harry just by the neck and Blaise shouting at him. They quickly came, and seeing Madame Maxime, Marvolo realized he couldn't show his 'other side'; so he let Harry go and went away. Harry coughed a bit, his neck felt painful from the grip. His throat throbbed in pain; and everything came crashing down.

He felt people coming, surrounding him, nearer and nearer. One of them reached out to help him stand up. Harry refused to be touch, feeling his whole body freeze in cold disgust; and his stomach screaming foul. Before he knew it, he started to heave; and the next moment he vomited the food he had in the Yule ball.

It came pouring from his mouth; his nose blocked by the foul vomit taste. But he could only vomit so much as he didn't eat that much in the party. Instead, blood started to pour out of his throat, taste like foreign and iron. Hot tears ran down his cheek, as the byproduct of vomiting uncontrollably. His eyes were hot; everything felt wrong. He hated himself. He hated his body. He hated everyone. He wanted to die.

_But why? Why it's always him who needs to suffer? Why him? Why always him? Why? Why? _

_Why nobody get the same pain? Hurt like he was? Why?_

_It's not fair. _

That was the last thought that passed through him before he passed out in the middle of his own vomit.

* * *

><p>Lucius Malfoy appeared from the fire place of his own study inside Malfoy manor. He then let himself sighed loudly.<p>

It was a very tiring day, no, make it tiring month. Ever since he followed up with the Dark Lord's plan of making Lucius the Minister of Magic, everything has tipped into a more intense, dangerous politic and power game. Lucius found himself caught in the middle of intricacy, with enemies left and right becoming more desperate. Becoming the Minister of Magic symbolized one's power and identity. By becoming the Minister of Magic, one could manipulate the fragile balance to tip into his own side. This brought discomfort to Lucius and Malfoy family's enemies, since they relied heavily on the delicate political situation that has been there for the last 11 years ever since the Dark Lord disappeared. The Minister of Magic also brought new enemies—people who fancied themselves ready, worthy of power all viewed that they were the supposedly chosen person for the seat. It turned political friends into enemies in blankets (it was ridiculously easy for people to change), it turned support into dagger on your back, whilst it brought new friends sensing benefits and old comrades expecting debt be paid.

On the other hand, he was under pressure directly from the Dark Lord himself. Lucius thought that he at least would be able to instill his own agenda into the ministry planning. Oh, how wrong he was. The Dark Lord already has everything planned out in his own way, and it gave no room for Lucius to actually have control-in fact, Lucius felt like he was truly a puppet for the first time in his life. Despite the power in his hand, he got nothing to control over. That sensation of having nothing while having everything made Lucius felt pathetic and small.

All in all, it was the most exhausting position possible. People attacks those whom they thought have power, or famous, because they can easily picture those targets—they can easily put a face on those hatred and anger. Lucius knew about it, he was not blind to it, he used to be one of the puppeteers masquerading from behind the scene. But he was not really ready to be the one who actually be the puppet on the front line.

But The Dark Lord's order was absolute. It was not his own life that was on the scale, his family also.

Lucius found his beautiful wife came to him, her expression full of concern. She hugged him in silent, patting his arm.

The husband closed his eyes and enjoyed the scent of exotic perfume she always perfected herself with. It was comforting, after all the tension in the ministry. After a while, he finally had the energy to tear away his wife, but grabbing her hand tight.

"I need to prepare for tomorrow speech. Also, I need a light dinner…"

"Everything is ready, dear. Just come when you are ready." His wife smiled, comfortingly. Lucius smiled back, thanking her wordlessly. It was those times he found that he truly loves the woman in front of him.

* * *

><p>The days which followed were hollow for Harry. He woke up inside his own bedroom inside the Professor's quarter with utter despair and heaviness even worse than the first time he woke up after Marvolo used his body in Harry's first year. He hid inside his room avoiding everyone, couldn't bring himself to understand a single thing Professor Snape said to him. He had some house elves helped him bathe and ate for the next two days. He spent his time sitting while letting his mind wonder. It felt like numbness, not as severe as he felt before the Yule Ball, but still debilitating enough to make him felt like utter failure. His mind jumped from one thought to another, making it hard to focus to one task.<p>

He tried to gnaw on his hands again on the second day, but after the Professor had found him with bleeding hands and gnawed wounds on his arms—hard enough to actually tear skin and exposed his muscle underneath, Harry was forbidden to ever hurt himself like that again. Professor Snape gave him two vials of calming draught every day, with some pain relieving potion after he saw Harry's bleeding arm. He looked displeased, but he didn't say much about it.

"_Think about what you have done to yourself, and what would your parents think if they found you like this_"; was what he said to Harry.

At first, Harry didn't understand a single word. Everything sounded like gibberish to him, although the Professor's tone assured him that he had done something wrong. Wasn't he, always?

But slowly the understanding came to him. When Harry realized what his professor meant, he felt embarrassed of himself. What would his father do when he saw Harry like this? What would his mother do? Would they care? His relatives wouldn't care for sure. But his mother said they loved him… Would they be embarrassed? Angry? Disappointed? …sad?

The thought made Harry regret whatever he did so badly he wanted to hurt himself for punishment, but he couldn't punish himself by using pain because Professor Snape has shown him that pain was not acceptable punishment. Harry closed his eyes and pulled himself into a ball.

He wanted to disappear. He wanted his parents. He wants his father to sit beside him and patted his head, telling him he was proud of Harry despite how broken he was. He wants his mother to be beside him, hugging him and kissing his forehead like what mothers do, making sure Harry was comfortable despite Harry being so dirty. There was so much wrong he had done, he wished he could return back and changed it. He should never accepted Marvolo's proposal the first time, he should never made friend with Blaise, he should have spent his days more in the kitchen with the elves or followed the unicorn and lived in the forbidden forest. He should have never let Professor Snape saw his hand, he should stay in the Dursley's place and waited his death.

_I need you as much as you need me. _

He tried not to let his thought strayed to Marvolo or Blaise; but the words came back to him again and again. Thinking about it made his head hurts, so he let go and waited till the days end. He was floating in the cloud of emptiness and numbness, and it seemed to make him felt a lot better. Stop living, stop caring, stop thinking. He had no desire to continue asking himself why Marvolo said those words. His anger has subsided; it turned into numbness back.

Yet slowly, the numbness subsided. It was replaced by new epiphanies, and—madness. He had been living in a funk the past weeks, but without warning, the memories came crashing back.

"_No." _

He was denied death. Again. And the kiss. And Percy and Penelope. And Blaise. And Marvolo and Esme. Harry started to laugh. The laughter echoed through his room, becoming louder and more crazed. But Harry couldn't stop laughing. He felt too funny, too hollow to stop. If he stopped what he was doing, there'd be nothing left.

Bending his fingers at sharp angles, he scratched at his face, over and over again. The feelings of self-disgust started to overpower him. His back was covered in cold sweat. He continued laughing, and he was only vaguely aware of someone begging him to stop. He couldn't stop. His body was filled with some sort of nervous energy and his limbs started to jitter—he couldn't control them as they shook.

He needed to calm down… he needed something to calm down… something.

So he turned and ran—his damn leg, despite getting better, still dragging him annoyingly—out from the room. He crashed into other students along the way, but most of them were too surprised to react, much less reach out and catch Harry, who kept running and running. Harry finally found himself inside the welcome dark chamber of the Room of Requirement, and when he closed the door, the room was bare and empty, save for a single book in the middle of the room. Harry recognized the book. It was one of the new Necromancy books Marvolo had given him last time.

His limbs stopped shaking. Harry took it as a good indication. The room knew better than he did. Slowly he opened the book, for he believed that the Room of Requirement had decided that Harry needed that particular book in this time of madness.

Thus, Harry started to read about Blood Necromancy, on how to bind another's soul to his own so that he could, basically, control that other soul.

* * *

><p>Harry closed the door to the Room of Requirement behind him. He had finished reading the whole book and felt like he could do everything and anything. It was such a genius way to be happy, to be a good person his parents would be proud of.<p>

The book told him how he could bind everybody's soul to his, so everybody would be connected to him. The connection is unbreakable unless the 'master anchor' dies, so nobody could leave Harry anymore. They can't physically hurt the 'master anchor' either. Even if they died, Harry could call their souls back as ghost. The book mentioned something else about the 'Resurrection Stone', which had similar effect to this ritual. Harry didn't pay attention to it, because the stone was explained in the last chapter of the tome—Harry didn't care for it.

He was fed up with all the feelings hoo-haahs. He wanted something stable, something that surely wouldn't leave him. He didn't need feeling; he just needed the unbreakable bond. He wanted to make sure that even though nobody loves him; they wouldn't, _couldn't_ leave him alone. They couldn't replace him with anyone else, even if they wanted to. It was clever, isn't it? To have people bonded to you, to eternity. Nobody would leave him anymore. And Harry promised to protect those people he bound to him. He has the power, he has the ability. He could do it. He would make them depend on him instead of the other way around, and this way people wouldn't leave him, and they would like him for being dependable. Maybe after being with Harry for long and Harry treating them good would make them love Harry.

Also, if Harry couldn't die, so would they.

It was such a perfect plan.

All he needed was the blood of the other person. Harry needed to drink the blood, then performed rituals inside himself easily. The tome mentioned how the ritual is quite dangerous, erratic and required high level of pure magic. Harry didn't care for the first two points, he was fine with it. The third was something he could easily overcome. His magic has told him that he was well endowed with the magick to keep the ritual successful.

But the bond required the 'slave' willingness to the bond—and the book said that such willingness can easily taken form in lust, sexual attraction or devotion. In other word, the bonding will happen easily as long as the 'slave' was willing to be bound to the 'master anchor' at the time of ritual. Harry knew sexual attraction. Marvolo has been touching and showing him what was 'sex'. Arousing, exhilarating, and somehow painful when you put too much emotion in it. Percy and Penelope were wrong about sex. Love was not needed to have sex. Sex is sex, and that's all it was about. Sex.

If having sex was not an expression of love, then Harry knew for sure he could do it with anyone. And he could then bind the person using sex and the ritual. Then they would be together forever. This way, Harry could even collect people he likes and made them bound to him. He could make his own family. They would be together, forever and ever.

He felt that somehow a burden has been lifted—there was no use for him to drown in his depression and problem, he had the ultimate answer to all his misery. He could bind everyone he likes and made them stick with him. He knew how, he was sure he could manipulate them into having sexual activity with him, and so the only problem at the moment is who he is going to bind.

Since he needed to start searching of his potential slaves, Harry decided to end his self imposed banishment in Professor Snape's quarter. After all, he couldn't have sex inside the Professor's quarter, under the Professor's nose, could he? That made him realized that he should actually have sex with Professor Snape as it was the only way to bind the professor to him.

Yet the image of himself under Professor Snape's body felt wrong, somehow.

Harry decided to target Professor Snape later, when he was more used to it. Now, he should focus on more plausible target.

* * *

><p>Neville Longbottom found himself seated in the library, right beside the most gossiped star in Hogwarts at that moment: Harry Potter. It was nothing special—nothing special ever happened to him, the plainest boy in Gryffindor house. He was there because he was paired with the green eyed Slytherin for their potion assignment. They were assigned as partners for the rest of the year by Professor Snape for potion assignment which would be the basis for their OWL requirement the next year.<p>

But Neville knew it was deeper than that—it seemed that the Professor felt the need to assign Harry potter to a partner, or somebody else, at any time of the day. Neville was even more shocked when the Professor has called him to stay back the day he assigned Neville and Harry, to tell (but in Snape's standard, it was as good as begging) Neville that he needed to keep an eye on Harry Potter, and whenever possible, make the boy talk or eat. It sounded bizarre for Neville, and he knew it was unfair for Harry Potter. Harry Potter was not a child anymore, yet it seemed that everybody around him think of the boy as a small, fragile, defenseless animal.

Neville knew that Harry Potter was one of the smartest boy in his year—Harry Potter and Hermione Granger were the two star pupils who alternatively gained the first place in all subjects. It made Neville very nervous, since he knew he was only helpful in herbiology and nothing else.

Furthermore, ever since the mysterious accident that let Potter limping with walking sticks, the beautiful boy (Neville admitted that easily—he had seen how possessed Ron was over the boy, how sometimes he heard his dorm mates or older Gryffindor jerking off while hissing Potter's name—weirdly enough, there was only one Harry in the entire school, despite the common quality of the name—and how noisy the girls were while discussing their crushes in the Gryffindor common rooms. It was very safe to assume that Harry Potter has enchanted the Gryffindor house) refused to talk. So far they only communicate through written communication, with Harry passing the notes to him and listed all the thing he wanted Neville to research while Neville silently passing back his research result.

It wasn't like he didn't like the silent, though. Being in the Gryffindor house equals to no privacy and silent. Everybody was happy to announce what they think of any matters, enjoying the fun found in brashness and loudness, as well as inserting their noses into everybody else's businesses. It has lessened a bit since Ronald Weasley got himself restrained by the aurors and unable to come to Hogwarts (the arrest also lead to the fourth year Gryffindors boys to be calmer and lessened their hot headed attitude, however the shock starting to lessened. It slowly returned to the noisy and nosey environment Neville has tried his hardest to adapt to). Working with Slytherin—and Harry Potter at that—was refreshing. Neville found himself preferring this.

But Professor Snape's order was gospel, and Neville felt the need to die at least while trying to do it.

It also reminded him how perceptive the Slytherin boy was. The question Harry (Neville wasn't sure whether the boy still wants him to call Harry his name) asked him why he was smiling while telling the popular tale of how disappointed his gran was of him, how Neville fought his best until finally his magic appeared and saved his life from death. The question was still very much stuck in Neville's mind, and it used to give Neville the urge to come towards Harry and asked for friendship.

However, throughout time, he realized that not only Harry was guarded by a very persistent Slytherin boy called Zabini (who seemed to reserve the place of Harry's best friend with the ferocity of a Hungarian Horntail), Harry was also untouchable, with the Potion Professor being so overprotective for his charge and the whole Slytherin house following the example.

So Neville has learned to curb his urge to be friend with Harry, and thus he returned to calling Harry; Harry Potter. And he learned to know more about Harry from the gossips—how he was hurt, how Harry was not opening the Yule Ball like other champions, how Professor Snape has taken control and brought Harry potter to live inside his own quarter. And so, the silent Gryffindor boy continued to do the research his partner told him to do. While thinking of what he should say next to coax the boy to talk.

He was totally unprepared when Harry Potter turned to him, and with the most innocent voice, said, "Please fuck me."

* * *

><p>The chapter is short, sorry. If I can produce the next chapter, it will be on Marvolo's POV, the smut fest between Harry and everybody he wanted, Moody slash Barty jealousy and The second task. Also Snape getting an ulcer because of Harry.<p>

Thank you for reading.


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